Grifball: Running Rampant
by The Freelancer Collaboration
Summary: The Intergalactic Grifball League finally announce the inclusion of female players within the professional leagues. Follow the players of Team Rampancy, as they struggle with the challenges and exploit the possibilities that this offers them, as they battle it out for the league title. With everything on the line, can these players do what it takes to win? Or even get along?
1. Prologue

**(A/N) Hey guys, this is NicKenny of the Freelancer Collaboration here, with a brand new fic for you all, to coincide with the release of Red vs Blue Season 11! This fic is, obviously, a fic about Grifball. More specifically, this occurs after the league's admission of female players into its professional divisions. We will follow the players of Team Rampancy, as they struggle with the changes that this announcement results in, and their quest for the league title. Stay tuned!**

**For those interested, we have also published an X-Ray and Vav fic, and are looking for writers, so feel free to message this account for more information. We'll also have a very important update on our main fic "Phase One: Genesis" tomorrow, so look out for that!**

**Enjoy!**

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**Prologue**

**Coach Anderson**

**Written by NicKenny**

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"_Equality is not a concept. It's not something we should be striving for. It's a necessity. Equality is like gravity. We need it to stand on this earth as men and women, and the misogyny that is in every culture is not a true part of the human condition. It is life out of balance, and that imbalance is sucking something out of the soul of every man and woman who's confronted with it. We need equality. Kinda now."_– Joss Whedon_  
_

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On any other day, these seats would have been filled up solely with reporters and cameramen. Now, with the Commissioner's sudden announcement that he would be scheduling a press conference that would change the very face of Grifball, something that he hadn't done since announcing the participation of Team Heretic in the league a few years back.

While the Elites had originally been a source of embarrassment and shame for the league, since someone had finally found a translator to explain the rules of the game to them, they had shaped up to be a pretty formidable team. Not a championship contender, as their natural instincts always seemed to lead to them committing at least a few betrayals per game, but they won almost as many games as they lost, and the embarrassing early days had long been out past them.

Today, while there where a good number of the media present, much of the spectators where coaches and officials within the league, all of them anxious to hear the Commissioners latest announcement, and speculating on the changes that it would bring to the game, ad to their daily lives.

After all, in these days of relative peace, Grifball was a big-money industry. Any changes to the system meant that everyone in the room today's pockets might suddenly become a good deal lighter. Or a great deal heavier.

In the midst of all this idle chatter and speculation sat the coach of Team Rampancy, Ryan Anderson. He sat there alone, not talking to anyone, his eyes locked on the podium that the Commissioner would very shortly be standing behind.

At first glance, he didn't look like much. A heavy-set man in his mid-fifties, grey cropped hair and dark green eyes hidden behind a pair of horn-rimmed glasses set on nose that had clearly been broken several times, a testament to his career as a defender for Team Maverick, Whiplash, and finally Rampancy itself, the team that he would win two championships with before eventually managing it.

However, looks, as the saying goes, can be deceiving. Twenty-five years ago, Ryan Anderson was one of the top names in Grifball, winning multiple MVP awards, along with several championship medals. By the end of his career, he had set the record for the most kills in a single match, a season, and of all time, and while his single match and season records had been surpassed in recent years, he still held the record for all time kills.

After his retirement, he had taken up coaching, meeting with some small success in the amateur leagues, coaching teams like Havoc and Nice Dynamite, before being hired by Dynamo, one of the smaller teams within the professional league. After two seasons, Dynamo reached their highest finish at the end of a season ever, and Anderson had caught the eye of the bigger teams, going on to win a championship title with Maverick and Overcharge, before finally returning to Rampancy to save them from relegation.

Three years on, Rampancy had sorted out the financial struggles that had caused them to almost get relegated, and were gradually moving up the table, finishing in a respectable sixth place last season. However, they had lost three of their players during the off season, one through an injury sustained in a friendly that effectively ruled him out of playing Grifball ever again, another was serving twelve years for voluntary manslaughter after a bar fight got out of hand, and another had received a lifetime ban due to substance abuse.

All in all, it was going to be a tough next season for Rampancy, and many would have considered them candidates for relegation, had anyone other than Ryan Anderson been in charge.

The doors at the back of the room swung open, and the Commissioner strode out, casually waving to the cameramen that took this moment to stand up and get to work in earnest. The Commissioner beamed, walked up to the podium, and waited for the noise to die down before speaking.

"Ladies and gentlemen, coaches and officials of the league, and members of the press," he began, in his usual dapper fashion, "I'm sure many of you are wondering why you have been called here today. I've heard rumours ranging from that we're allowing the use of jetpacks, grenades and low-yield nuclear devices enter the game, to that we're going to introduce some of the most deadliest animals that we can find in the galaxy in the arena during a game, just to spice things up a little."

He took a moment to roll his eyes, and the crowd laughed good naturedly, sharing in his disdain of these rumours, created, no doubt, by the same morons who insisted that corruption was rife at every level in Grifball, that Grifball was originally created by a group of delinquent soldiers, and that some branches of the UNSC had begun replacing soldiers with gay robots.

"Anyway," he continued, "While we did consider the latter option, and still have some plans concerning introducing it in the lower leagues as a testing ground, but that is not why I've called you here tonight."

He paused for a moment, looking over the crowd before him, and shuffled the sheets of paper in front of him. "No, what we are here to discuss is something much different. Something…revolutionary. Here, in the Intergalactic Grifball League, we pride ourselves in encouraging equality amongst our players. A few years back, we extended this philosophy not only to the human race, but to that of the…Sanghoo…Sangheal…Sangreely – however you say it. The Elites."

Around Ryan Anderson the crowd began to stir, as they felt the electricity behind the Commissioner's words, and sensed that he was about to make his announcement. Anderson himself, however, remained immobile, his eyes still locked on the Commissioner at his podium, his mind humming but his mouth remaining firmly closed.

"However, it has been brought to my attention that, while we have extended the hand of friendship to the…Elites, and have allowed Team Heretic to take their place alongside us, we continue to discriminate against a large section of our own race. That is to say, fifth per cent of it. The professional leagues have always remained closed to female players, as it was long – falsely – thought, that women couldn't play Grifball. Well, next year we'll get a chance to prove these old fashioned thinkers wrong. I am proud to announce that, as of next season, women will be allowed to play in all leagues with the IGL, in a continuation of the sport's fine tradition of equality, friendship and fraternity."

He finished his speech and, the moment he dropped that last full stop, the room exploded into a flurry of activity. The fast majority of the room surged to their feet, their hands clapping together in a thunderous, if somewhat shocked, applause. Anderson slowly got to his feet to join them, his large hands clapping together as enthusiastically as any of the others, but he couldn't help but notice the not insignificant number of others who either remained seating, a stunned and unhappy look on their faces, or those who clapped loudly with sour expressions, or, indeed, those few who simply got up and left the room, cursing under their breath.

It looks like not everyone were happy with the Commissioner's latest announcement. There'd be trouble, later on, of that Coach Anderson had little doubt. His gut was telling him that something was going on here, out of sight, that mightn't be quite a pure and clean as the league wanted this decision to appear.

His gut had never let him down yet.

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Later on, behind the scenes, in an area that the media had not been granted access to, but the coaches had been in order to meet up with the Commissioner and ask him some personal questions on what exactly this announcement would mean for their team, while being surrounded by some of the finest food and drink on this part of the planet. Some of the coaches who had been less than pleased with the announcement had settled for getting roaring drunk, and Dan Smith of Overcharge had currently passed out, face first, into the punch bowl. Anderson glanced at him with a look of disdain written across his face, his hand reaching for the glass of Coke next to him. He tried to stay away from alcohol at occasions like these. He needed a clear head.

Not that he was anything but delighted with the announcement. He had long, if not publicly, campaigned for the inclusion of women into the game, pulling some strings here and there in order to make it a public demand. Indeed, every year, the Inclusion of Women in Grifball, or the IWG for short, received a significant anonymous donation from him, in order to help their cause.

However, he could sense the tension among the other coaches, and he knew there were a large number of them who had been less than pleased with the Commissioner's announcement, and he knew that there would be a significant number of fans up in arms over this. If last year's riots after the Majestic/Castle match had taken the league unawares and resulted in more injuries than Anderson was happy to remember, the ones that the next season faced would be much worse.

But progress was progress, and it was the right thing to do. He would just have to make sure that Rampancy's own stadium made sure to increase its crowd policing, and had more officials on site per game to deal with any potential problems. The last few years they had avoided the brunt of the riots that burst out with worrying frequency during, after, and sometimes even before a Grifball match, but it was always better to be safe than sorry.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice the waitress next to him, gently tapping his shoulder.

"Sorry?" he asked, surprised, his brow furrowed, having missed what she had said.

"The Commissioner has requested that you join him. He wishes to talk to you about the announcement, and how it will affect your team."

Anderson thanked her and got up from his seat, downed his drink, then slowly made his way over to the Commissioner's table, stopping on his way to exchange a few words with several of the other coaches as he passed them. It didn't pay to rush for someone like the Commissioner. You were better off showing him that he was not the most important thing in your life, otherwise he'd take all the advantages that he could.

Anderson did not like the Commissioner, to put it mildly. It was hard to like someone that represented everything wrong with the game.

"Commissioner," he murmured, nodding to him as he reached the table.

The Commissioner glanced up and smiled at him, before holding up a hand as he apologised to his companions: the coach of Heretic, an Elite who had taken over from the Commissioner a few years back after the Commissioner's enthusiasm over that project had dwindled, a blonde model who Anderson vaguely recognised as being the wife of one of the players of Whiplash (he briefly wondered what she was doing here, then felt that it was better not to ask), and Stu Stuman, everyone's least favourite Grifball newscaster.

"So, Anderson, right?" the Commissioner asked, beaming brightly, but seemed to notice that this approach would not go down particularly well in the face of Anderson's stone-cold expression.

"I was told you have some info for me, in regards to my team?" Anderson asked tiredly, just wanting the night to be over and done with.

"Of course, Rampancy, Rampancy, a great team. Big shame about your boys, but I know you'll find a way to bounce back!"

Anderson sighed, looking away. "Yeah, it's a shame all right. We're looking into a few places for replacements, and it's taking up a lot of my time, but we'll be ok, at least if I have anything to say about it."

The Commissioner chuckled slightly, but there was an underlying tone of nervousness to it. "Well, then I have some good news for you! You won't have to search for players any longer, because I have three in mind that would fit right in, and wouldn't cost you much in the terms of transfer fees."

The coach turned back to him, frowning. "Really? What's the catch?"

"Come now, why on earth would there be a catch?!"

Anderson just stared at him for a moment, and the Commissioner quickly deflated.

"Ok, there might be a little catch. They're all currently in the amateur leagues."

Anderson shrugged. "That doesn't bother me, if there stats are good enough, then I'll be prepared to take them on."

"Oh, I can assure you, their stats _are _good enough. They're all top players within their division, and have sparkling records."

"Really?" Anderson asked, his interests piqued. "Who are they?"

"We have two tanks and a defender, and I know those are the positions you're looking for!"

The coach sighed in irritation, shaking his head. "Very well, but what are their names?"

After pausing for a second the Commissioner shrugged, "Their names are Kiara Thomas, Ellen Thompson and Arika Myles."

"So…they're all women?"

"Yeeessss…" the Commissioner began, "But you, of all people, can hardly have a problem with that. I know you've been supporting the IGL over the last few years. Of all the people here, I thought you'd be the happiest with this announcement!"

Holding up his hands in protest, Anderson broke in, "I have no problem with taking on female players, especially if they're as good as you say they are. Anyway, if I have any problems with 'em, I can just trade them off."

Looking slightly uncomfortable, the Commissioner shook his head emphatically. "Um…no, you won't."

Alarm bells ringing in his head, Anderson frowned. "What do you mean, I won't?"

"You won't be able to trade them. You see, we need a certain number of female players in the league, otherwise we'll lose the interest of the various companied that we're currently negotiating advertisement deals with. As a result, we can't allow you to trade them off to a lower league team, or, indeed, to another team within the league, as otherwise that will affect our sales of female orientated Rampancy merchandise."

Anderson stared at him for a moment, fully aware of the power that the Commissioner had over the league, and how he could, quite easily, reduce Rampancy to nothing but ash with a single word. "What about the other teams? Are they being subjected to this…treatment, too?"

"More or less. Some, in this case you, more than others."

Anderson just continued staring, until the Commissioner continued, "I mean, you had three vacancies, we needed to bring in players, it seemed like the perfect opportunity! And, after all, we did need someone to…test this out on."

"I thought Slipspace were your usual guinea pigs?"

The other man sighed, "Ah, yes…Slipspace…unfortunately, you see, they've got themselves a good team of lawyers recently, so we're having to look a bit further afield this year. That's where your team comes in."

Anderson shook his head slowly and stood up, shaking slightly with barely repressed anger and scorn. "Very well then," he spat out, his eyes narrowed. "I'll take them on."

He turned to leave, but before he left he couldn't help but leave the Commissioner with a final sentence.

"Fraternity means brotherhood, you dumb bastard."


	2. Chapter 1: How to Say Hello

**(A/N) Hey guys, it's time for our first official chapter of Grifball: Running Rampant, brought to you by the fantastic writer that is WednesdayA 3567, and here we'll get acquainted with our cast of characters for this fic. I'm so glad that we've been able to get this off the ground, and the chapters over the next few weeks will hopefully wow you. We've got a real story to tell here. Our updates for this fic will occur once a week on Fridays, possibly being extended to twice a week, but we'll see how it goes first.**

**As I mentioned in the last update, we're still looking for applicants for both our X-Ray and Vav fic and our sequel to our flagship fic, Phase One: Genesis. If you're interested, message me or head over to our forum! **

**Enjoy! **

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**Chapter One - How to Say Hello**

**Ellen Thompson**

**Written by WednesdayA 3567**

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_"People sometimes talk about the power of first impressions, and believe me, there is truth to it." - _Anne Brashares, "My Name Is Memory"

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There was a black limousine in her driveway. A _stretch_ limo. In _her_ driveway. Ellen had to shake her head a few times before realizing that it was there for her. A limo! She had known there would be a car to pick her up, but she thought maybe it would be a friend of a friend of a teammate's cousin's car. Something old and beat up; inconspicuous. A limousine never even crossed her mind. Did this mean there would be people waiting for them too? Like, people with cameras that have major logos on the side? Wow.

Ellen stood looking out of her window, awe-struck, for a whole few minutes until there was a light honk from the beautiful automobile. She smoothed her suddenly shabby-looking blue skirt and ran outside a little too quickly to be dignified. Her screen door slammed behind her.

Ellen stepped into her luxurious ride just a tad breathless, and plopped down in the seat facing the two women already there.

The one directly across from Ellen was pale, red-headed, and a little on the short side. She had beautiful blue eyes, and her green sundress created an ocean-y feeling when paired with them. Her face was sweet but shy, and Ellen noticed a scar just above her eye as she looked down at her lap. Hearing Ellen slam the car door behind her (who would've known limos had such heavy doors?!) the woman looked up suddenly, and a smile twitched at her lips. Once Ellen had gotten herself settled, the red-head stuck out her hand in greeting.

"Hi. I'm Kiara Thomas. I guess we're going to be teammates now." Ellen took her hand and shook it just firmly enough to show she had character.

"I'm Ellen. Ellen Thompson. We're going to have to make sure they don't get our names mixed up," she said with a slight laugh. Kiara looked puzzled, clearly not understanding her weak attempt at humor. "Thomas. Thompson. They're rather similar, you know," she said with a shrug.

"Oh! Yeah, I guess you're right. But, well, we don't exactly look that much alike." Kiara gestured vaguely towards Ellen. Ellen looked down at herself for only a moment to register what she already knew. African skin, long limbs, powerful legs, well-toned body, the ends of her curly hair hanging past her shoulders. Everything was only what she'd seen in the mirror that morning. However, looking at her dark hand and Kiara's pale hand locked in greeting, she understood what Kiara meant. She only nodded indecisively and smiled before turning to the other woman.

She was a little taller than Kiara, a little younger looking, certainly tanner, and her hair was raven black. Her arms were crossed over her red hoodie, and she was staring out of the window. When Ellen turned to her, she didn't offer a handshake, only a small wave and a smile.

"Arika Myles. Pleasure to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Arika," Ellen replied with a grin. She couldn't help but notice how Arika managed to make a hoodie and flare jeans look dressy, but it worked on her. Ellen was just a _tiny_ bit jealous.

They all looked at each other for a moment or two, searching for something to say. Arika seemed a little awkward, and simply turned back to her window. Kiara didn't exactly like the sudden tension in the car, and started fiddling with a loose string on her dress nervously. Ellen, having none of it, cleared her throat loudly. After all, they were going where no women had gone before, and they would need to be friends to support one another. The cough eliciting no response from the two, Ellen frowned and tried to begin a conversation.

"So. . . What do you gals think about all this? Women being accepted, I mean. Do you think we'll really be _accepted_, or just barely respected?" Arika turned back around, face bright with the prospect of a good conversation, and Kiara looked up.

"If those stupid men think they're gonna push us around, they're in for one helluva ride, my friend," replied Arika strongly. Kiara was a bit quieter, but certainly got her message across.

"Yeah. We're just as good, if not better, than them. And you know why? Because we always had to work even harder to be noticed. We were always the underdogs, but now I'll bet you anything they've underestimated us because of that. They'll either think we're some kind of joke," she paused in thought, "or try to hit on us." Ellen took this opportunity to further the discussion without actually adding her own opinion. She just wanted to see these girls' reactions.

"What would you do if that happened?"

"Reject us or hit on us?" Arika answered with a question.

"Either or."

"If they reject us as valid team members just 'cause we're chicks, they get a taste of my grav hammer. If they hit on us, well," Arika stopped and tapped her chin with an amused smile painting her face, "they get a taste of my grav hammer."

The three women burst out laughing, and the rest of the ride was spent in pleasant conversation. The main topic was joking about how "they'd show all those arrogant jerks out there!"

Ellen learned that Arika had a great sense of humor once you got past the slight "tough chick" attitude. Kiara was shy and rather sweet, when you could get her to talk. She smiled and laughed at their jokes, but only spoke up when she felt strongly on the subject. Ellen herself preferred to further the conversation with only a few jokes or questions now and then; rarely did she offer her own opinion.

The hour trip passed in next to no time at all, and they were soon slowing down in front of a mass of news reporters. Ellen brought her face to the window, and stared wide-eyed like a small child.

"There's so many of them. I never imagined..." she left her sentence hanging in the air, awestruck. Arika crossed her arms in front of her and put back a tough facade. Kiara started to nervously fiddle with her dress again. Ellen looked at her new friends as they came to a complete stop and the driver got out to open their doors.

"What do you think, girls? Should we answer all their questions? Or not? You _know_ they'll be asking all kinds of pesky questions," she said with an eye roll.

Arika was the first to answer. "I think we should just walk in with our heads high and ignore them. Some of their questions might be insulting or personal."

"But then we'll seem stuck up. They won't respect us. We should just act naturally and answer whatever questions we want to, but not all of them," Kiara protested.

"Alright. I agree with Kiara. Let's walk in as quickly as possible, but we can still answer a few questions. Okay?" She didn't wait for an answer. The driver had already opened their door, flooding the cab with noise. They wouldn't be able to hear each other. Ellen slid out of the car first and stood before the crowd, straightening her skirt conscientiously. She waited for Arika and Kiara, wanting to walk in together. A frenzied man in a suit rushed up to Ellen and stuck a microphone in her face.

"How do you think women playing in Grifball will effect the game? How will male members react?"

"Well, um, I'm just going to, uh-" Geez! She hadn't expected to get so tongue-tied!

Ellen was saved by someone in a Rampancy t-shirt ushering the man away from her and back into the crowd. Their driver helped Kiara and Arika out of the car and they stood by Ellen's side. Their chauffeur (and now apparent bodyguard) stood slightly behind them, pushing away any reporters that got too close. The three looked at each other for a moment, then nodded and shouldered their way through the mass of people and into the deafeningly quiet stadium.

Ellen looked behind them just before the doors slammed shut, and saw a line of people all wearing those Rampancy t-shirts gesturing the media away from the stadium. They must work for Rampancy in one way or another. One man in the crowd stood out for whatever reason. He had no camera, no microphone, no suit, no dazzlingly fake smile. He was plain and simple, but he stood out nonetheless. All Ellen could see were his arms crossed over an orange Grifball shirt and a scowl. A cold, cruel, accusatory scowl. A scowl that asked her what exactly she thought she was doing here, while simultaneously telling her that she would never be good enough to succeed. Then the doors bounced shut a final time, shutting out all views and sounds of the outside.

His attitude bothered Ellen, but there was nothing she could do about it at the moment. She turned around and hurried to catch up with her new teammates, who were already halfway down the hall. Arika and Kiara were talking animatedly about finally getting to be "behind the scenes" at a Grifball stadium. Ellen was about to rejoin the conversation when they stopped in front of their new coach. Ryan Anderson.

The first thing anyone would notice was his severely short graying hair. He was tall, eye-to-eye with Ellen, and probably somewhere in his mid-fifties. His nose had obviously been broken one too many times, which earned him automatic respect from Ellen. She could sense the women next to her straightening up, and caught herself doing the same. Coach Anderson's hands were clasped behind his back, and he gave them the once-over before offering his hand to Ellen.

"Ryan Anderson. Coach, to you. Welcome to the team, ladies."

"Thank you, sir. I'm Ellen Thompson."

He nodded tersely, then conducted similar exchanges with Kiara and Arika.

"If you all would follow me, we'll get you outfitted with your armor." He turned on his heel, and began walking quite quickly down the corridor. The girls looked at one another, eyebrows raised, and hurried to keep up with him. No one said a word, and the only sound was the four sets of footsteps and their echoes. It was rather eerie.

Coach Anderson turned suddenly into a room on their right, and the girls nearly had to backtrack to follow. They walked into a large room, with intimidating sets of armor surrounding them at even intervals. Each was unique, but the base colors were all Rampancy blue. There were small plaques by each suit, and Ellen could make out the different names that must correspond to their respective set of armor.

She watched Kiara gravitate towards a blue and yellow Venator suit. Ellen was almost surprised; all those sharp corners and hard edges didn't seem to suit Kiara, but it would definitely intimidate any opposing team. Arika walked slowly towards a set of Stalker armor, but an Operator helmet was perched atop it. It's trim was orange, which went very well with the sturdier design.

Ellen found her name next to a set of Protector's armor. It would work well for a Defender like herself. She studied it, and found it brought a smile to her face. It was small and light enough for her famous sneak attacks, yet sturdy enough to protect her adequately from injury. She liked that it was thinner around the legs (good for running) and heavier around her shoulders (good against gravity hammers). Ellen noticed that it's coloring matched Kiara's; blue and yellow.

"Ha! Not only are our names similar, but take a look at our armor!" Kiara looked up, and cracked a smile when she saw what Ellen meant.

Coach broke into their focus on the armor with instructions. "Well, I'll leave you to get suited up. When you're done, meet us in the training room. Down the hall and second on your left." With that, he turned on his heel again and left.

The girls hurriedly pulled on the armor and found it was lighter than they expected. Ellen noticed three plaques that were missing their matching suits. She assumed those were the men's sets. Which would mean their male teammates were already in the training room. She kept her helmet magnetized to her back, and saw the other two do the same. Ellen went to the door and held it open, waving them on.

"Come on, girls! Let's go see just how warm a welcome we can get!"

When they stepped into the large gym-like area, all conversation stopped uneasily. Ellen would've bet that the talk had been about them. The question was, good or bad? Three men were lined up, armor on but helmets magnetized to their backs. Coach stood behind them, planning to keep watch over the introductions.

The man on the far right was just about average height, caucasian, blonde (with an obviously dyed silver streak), green eyes, and a sneaky grin. Ellen had seen him before; he'd been in plenty of rather scandalous news stories. This was Alex Cross, pro Grifball player, womanizer, and Runner. Ellen had seen him play before and he was great when he wasn't busy breaking rules and transferring to different teams.

He must have noticed Ellen eyeing him warily, because he winked and offered a handshake. "Alex Cross. But, by the way you're looking at me, I can guess you already know who I am."

Ellen only nodded and replied rather cautiously as she shook his outstretched hand. "Ellen Thompson."

"Oh, Ellen, huh? Can I call you Ellie, miss Thompson?"

"Errrm, sure, I guess. It's nice to meet you."

Ellen moved down the line to meet her next teammate. He was slim and muscular, and he looked shorter than he probably was because he was leaning all his weight on one leg. His skin was evenly tanned, which made his easy grin stand out brightly. Ellen noticed his brown hair looked as though it hadn't been combed in the last week. It was actually rather charming, as were his bright hazel eyes. The man in front of her didn't offer his hand right away, only pretend-pouted.

"Do I get to call you Ellie, too?"

"Well, that depends. I don't know who _you_ are yet," Ellen replied easily. She could tell she was going to like this joker. He straightened up for a moment as he put his hand out in front of him, suddenly military-crisp.

"Will Weissman, at your service ma'am."

She laughed, and took his hand. "Ellie Thompson, at yours."

He returned to his previous slouched position, and his smile widened.

"It's a pleasure to have you aboard. I know you'll make our team the best it can be."

"Well, thank you!"

Ellen continued down the line once again, to her last new teammate, expecting a similar warm welcome. Maybe there wouldn't be any arrogant jerks to deal with after all.

Obviously that had been too much to hope. He stood stiffly with his arms crossed defensively in front of him. He was tall, and could almost look down at Ellen. She could tell he was certainly trying to. He was brown haired, like Will, but much colder. His hair was very carefully taken care of, and darker than Will's. His eyes were green, like Alex's, but far from playful. They were scornful, already judging her. He didn't make a move to greet her, only spread his feet apart as though declaring the room his territory.

Still, Ellen decided that he couldn't possibly be _all_ bad. He would have to at least give her his name. She offered her hand for a handshake. "Ellen Thompson, defender."

He didn't move. Didn't even blink. He never broke eye contact, and he never took her hand. "Ah. I see how it is then. I'll prove to you I'm worth, at the very least, a greeting." Ellen made her voice uncharacteristically cold, hoping to show him she wasn't going to back down.

Coach Anderson suddenly came from behind and smacked this man upside the head. He grunted and said, "Jackson Rothe, team captain." Jackson still refused to take her hand. Coach looked pissed, but didn't press the matter any further.

"Alright, everyone. Now we've got _most_," he looked pointedly at Jackson, "introductions out of the way, there's a little something I want to say to start the season off with. If you'll all follow me..."

The team snapped on their helmets and trailed after him. Jackson stuck close to Coach's heels, but Will and Alex fell into step with the girls. Ellen knew she'd have problems with that Jackson man, but perhaps the support of the other two would be enough. After all, two out of three wasn't bad.


	3. Chapter 2: Familiar Words

**(A/N) It's a Friday, and that means it's time for another Grifball: Running Rampant update, this time brought to you by the fabulous BrambleStar14! I hope you'll all love it as much as I did! As before, we're still open for applications for the sequel to Phase One: Genesis, but the clock is ticking!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Two: Familiar Words**

**Alex Cross**

**Written by BrambleStar14**

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"_If you obey all the rules you miss all the fun." _- Katharine Hepburn

* * *

Alex walked slowly across the room as the coach called them over for another one of his yearly little "pep talks". He was well used to Coach's usual tricks by now. Every year, before the start of a new Grifball season, Ryan Anderson would line Rampancy up in front of him and give them all a healthy dose of his voice for a while. But this was the first time ever that he would give the speech with a woman present, let alone three women!

Alex's thoughts drifted over to the pre-mentioned women. Many people thought that women was all that he ever thought about. The Alex Cross they knew was the one that they had heard about in the news and in the magazines and the face that he presented during interviews. Alex didn't always think about the ladies, which might surprise many people, but his thoughts went to his new team-mates as he pondered what they would bring to the team.

Ellen, or "Ellie" as he'd christened her. Dark skinned and with curly hair, with long limbs. A defender. A dying breed nowadays, Alex thought with some sadness. Players were changing roles or retiring and the Hybrids didn't help much, with the fact that they would combine several roles at once. How would penalties ever be taken anymore, if there were no defenders to block a runner's path to the goal? She looked able enough to swing a Grav Hammer and imposing enough in the armour to deter any Runners. She would probably do fine.

But Ellie, she might yet know her stuff. She looked confident enough. She even stared down Jackson; not many people had ever succeeded in facing Mr Rothe down. Stupid traditionalist with his stupid beliefs that women shouldn't be playing sport. Still, he was the boss and Alex was only the second. Well, the second until he either transferred yet again or Rothe got injured. Or quit. But that was unlikely: Jackson wouldn't quit a game if he was having a heart attack and Alex should know, he'd done it before.

Arika Myles. Ari. The new Tank. A very important position, so Alex could imagine the pressure that she would be under. Tall, dark hair, slightly tanned. She'd looked impressive enough in her armour that Alex wouldn't write her off just yet. Kinda pretty too. The kind of girl that Alex would be interested in-

No! Nope! Bad thoughts! Straying into forbidden territory there, Alex! He sliced off his train of thoughts and moved to more... acceptable areas, meaning that he went to the final teammate.

Kiara Thomas. The other Tank. She was small, which was in itself unusual for a tank. Normally, the pro teams went for the biggest guys able to wield a Grav Hammer they could find. Though maybe she was hiding it. She was pale, looked nervous enough, but she _was_ looking at Jackson, so that would be understandable. Red headed and blue-eyed. Another good looking one-

Goddamn it Al! What are you playing at?! You want to get kicked out of Rampancy as well!? Sure, you'd be a loss, but they'd use Will and get on with it. You might be one of the highest ranked runners (and Alex should know, he played Grifball: 2542 as much as any other addict) but Will was nearly as good as he was, so Rampancy wouldn't lose out too badly.

The three women were either going to improve the team, or weaken it. Alex guessed that they would see about that when the time came. And the time was fast approaching. Coach was gesturing and everyone stopped their socialising, except for Jacky, who had decided to stand in a corner and glare darkly.

They ran over to the coach and stood in a line in front of him smartly. He slowly walked up and down in front of them, eyeing every single one of them carefully, as though determined to find and root out any possible flaws in them. Eventually, he stopped pacing and took several steps backwards, letting himself see them all without having to turn his head. He nodded slightly, affirming to himself that they were the team that he coached and not some other team that had killed the Rampancy team and taken their place or something like that.

"Right," he said, drawing any uncaptured attention on to him as he began the speech. Alex mentally prepared his checklist for the things that Coach would say. It was almost like Bingo, except that there were bonus points awarded if he identified Anderson saying the same thing in a different way.

"This is a big year. This is the year that we," at this, he gestured around at both himself and the whole team. "We get more teammates. Arika, Ellen and Kiara. Three brand new, never seen before players. We have no idea how they'll perform, but I expect them to perform to the standards we expect here at Rampancy."

Jackson snorted. Coach took a few seconds to glare at him, achieving nothing except causing Jackson to stand up straighter. Careful, Jackson, Alex thought. Keep on like this and Coach will have to strip away your Captainship.

"Now that Jackson has decided to act his age," Coach continued, apparently fed up with Jackson's attitude. "We can continue. These women are our new teammates. I expect you to make them welcome," another glance was shot at Jackson. "And be kind and considerate. These new players are undoubtedly nervous."

They didn't look nervous, Alex thought. In fact, the coach's words only made them stand up straighter and snap to attention. Alex was impressed, though Jackson wasn't, of course, turning his face in the other direction.

"These new players may shake things up, but we need to act like a team!" Coach encouraged, imploring the group to work together, making a face that would show them how displeased that he would be if they didn't act like he expected them. "I know that it's a big leap to deal with women on the team!"

Not for you, Al thought as he saw Coach's lips pull upwards into a smirk for a split second. You've always campaigned for women. Oh, you don't say it, but all the signs are there. Al was actually rather good at reading people from their faces and from their clothing and from how they acted. It was just a natural gift or something. Karen always used to call it his "Sherlock Holmes Thing". He winced at the thought of Karen, before tuning back in.

"But it's a change we need to adapt to. There is no going back and there is no changing the rules and regulations. So these women are on the team. End of story. Any problems Rothe, and you'll be handing in your Captainship. Cross will be the Captain and you'll still have to deal with it!" Jackson scowled. Apparently the coach wasn't going to stand for any possible mutinies this time.

"Weissman, Cross, Rothe, I understand that you may feel trepidation about our ranks being filled so quickly, I know that Hawkins, Godwin and Alders were all good players and friends of yours. But we need to work together!"

Al tried to hide his grief at the mention of his friends. Caleb Godwin was a defender last season. He could play well, but he got on best with Jackson, not Will or Al. The idiot had it all: Fame, Success and all of the attention he needed. And then he got cocky. Did a few rounds of substance abuse and got landed in jail for six months. He never appeared fazed. And then they announced his immediate suspension from Grifball indefinitely. And _then_ he cried.

Brian Alders hung out with Will a lot, but he got on alright with Alex. A tank and a damn good one too. He always loved to party, probably why he and Will got on so well, they were perfect for each other. But he always had a drinking problem. And it cost him dearly. He got himself so drunk that when someone criticised how he played offensively, he lashed out. Ended up nearly killing the guy and need Jackson, Anthony and Alex to all pull him off of the dude. Got banged up and banned from Grifball. Indefinitely.

Anthony Hopkins. This was Alex's best friend. Apart from Jackson, when he wasn't being a stuck up prick. They hung out, they laughed, they joked. They were generally always seen together outside of the arena. But then came the match against Firebird. And Anthony got a Grav Hammer round between the shoulder blades. It broke his neck. He's still alive, but critically injured. He's paralysed from the waist down and can never play Grifball again. Al thought that Anthony got the worst out of the three.

Three good players. All down the drain due to their own mistakes or a damn Gravity Hammer. Who ever said Grifball wasn't fun, eh?

Jackson and Will were apparently having similar thoughts, as grief briefly marred both of their faces as well, before they snapped back to Coach.

He focused on Jackson for a second. He wasn't sure that he liked the look on his face. He knew why he was so annoyed. Much as he loathed to admit it, Jackson had a point. Still didn't change matters though. He could go about things a much better way. Al should have realised how badly Jackson would take it after he called him during the announcement.

* * *

_Al waited for Jackson to pick up the phone, anxious to hear how he had taken the news of women playing Grifball. He personally wasn't complaining, more women meant that he was likelier to find someone, but he wouldn't have to go too far is none of them were co-operative. One of the benefits to fame, he thought as he cracked his knuckles and listened to the dialing earpiece._

"_Yes?" came a curt voice from the other end of the phone. Al sighed in relief. He was worried about what Jackson would do for a minute. He didn't want to wake up tomorrow and hear about the untimely death of the Commissioner of Grifball._

"_Jackson?" he asked tentatively. There was a sigh of relief from his Captain's end now_

"_Alex, thank god!" He sighed into his own phone. "I thought you were the press. This announcement is so bullshi-" Al decided to cut him off._

"_Mate, it won't be so bad. Just wait and se-" Jackson had also decided he wanted to interrupt apparently._

"_DON'T TELL ME TO WAIT AND SEE! THIS IS BULLSHIT! WOMEN CAN'T PLAY SPORTS! THEY NEVER HAVE BEEN ABLE TO! THEY SHOULDN'T START NOW! AND YOU JUST SITTING THERE, TELLING ME IT'LL BE FINE! FUCK THIS!"_

_And Al heard the sound of something breaking for a split second before the phone cut off. He rather fancied that Jackson had thrown his phone against the wall. He shook his head slowly before leaning back in his recliner._

_Jackson would come around and apologise in the end. He always did after he realised how irrational he was. It was how the pair worked. They would generally point out each other's flaws, but they'd still stick together in the end._

_It was how they worked._

Alex sighed as he remembered that night, before focusing his mind on another particular night.

"_You're being a prick." Al was in Jackson's suite, relaxing in one of his chairs as he looked at the guy, who was pacing up and down after getting a call from his father, who was also pissed off that women were allowed into "a man's sport" as well. Al doubted that Jackson would give a shit either way without his father guiding his every step._

"_Is that so?" Jackson had apparently decided that today wasn't the day to apologise. Instead, he fixed Al with a glare. "How so?" His tone was forcefully light, but his meaning was dead plain._

_Al got straight to the point._

"_You're angry about women playing Grifball, but you haven't seen women even try to play it. You never considered the possibility of a woman ever playing as good as you. You refuse to listen to anyone who might give you good advice and only think that in this case, you and your father are the only voices really worth listening to on this particular topic. Give 'em a chance and see what they do. If they screw it up, I will publicly support you in your various feelings against them. If they do well-"_

"_Which they won't!" Jackson snarled. Al could see that the matter was lost. He raised his hands and shrugged his shoulders._

_At least he tried. Jackson would apologise. With time._

_It was how they worked._

* * *

Al sighed. He never had gotten that apology.

He mentally checked his checklist. 100%. As always, the Coach never really changed his speech. He got ready for the final part of the speech, the bit about how he expected great things and to do him proud.

"One last thing Rampancy."

Here it came.

"Some of you may be getting certain... feelings about the newest members of our team."

Alex's eyes few wide open. No way! He was altering his speech?!

"Remember one thing team! These players are team-mates. They are women, but they are on your team. They are not things to be played with, or treated like toys. You will treat them with humility and with respect. I know some of us can't control ourselves on occasion; I'm looking in your direction here Alex!"

Alex blinked. He raised his hands, a good natured grin on his face as he shrugged his shoulders at the rest of them. Will rolled his eyes and turned away, the girls still looked nervous of him, but then, he had built up quite the reputation. Jackson did nothing, but turned away, face impassive. Now it was Alex's turn to roll his eyes.

"Now, let's make it clear that I want these women treated like how you would ordinarily treat your male team-mates. And now I'm telling you to leave them alone Cross, cause I know that you'd go after them even if they were male!"

Alex spread his arms wide, an innocent look on his face. How unfair for the Coach to bring his sexuality into this. Just cause he didn't really mind who he went for! Will grinned again and Coach just shook his head.

"So, that's it overall." Al's checklist reappeared. He was missing something. Hmmm, what was it. Had the Coach missed it too?

"I expect great things Rampancy. Do me proud!"

Oh wait, there it was.

* * *

"Hey! Hey, Ellie!" Ellen turned around as Al caught up to her as they left the building. A smile crossed her features.

"Need a ride back home? My car door's always open to a beautiful lady like yourself!" She shook her head slightly, chuckling.

"No thanks Alex, I'm sure you and your ego have enough trouble fitting into the car." Alex laughed as well.

"Are you sure? I can always give you a ride, whenever you want. We could even stop at my place first!" Ellen shook her head again.

"I'm sure there are other girls you can take home. Or guys." And she walked off, leaving Alex staring after her, slack-jawed.

"BITCH!" he yelled, somewhat half heartedly, before turning back to his car.

Maybe they would do better this year. Maybe they'd do better than last year's mid table finish.

Or maybe Jackson was right. And maybe the girls would be nothing but trouble.

Alex didn't care either way. He briefly, just for the sake of it, out of sheer reflex, allowed one thought to enter his mind:

'_Do you reckon the Coach'll let men and women change in the same locker room?'_


	4. Chapter 3: Learn Your Lessons Well

**(A/N) Alright, it's time for the latest update in our Grifball saga, and we'll see if the girls will be running rampant as they begin to assimilate into Team Rampancy. With a frosty reception from their captain, something is making me doubt it! Written by the spectacular Lili-Hunter, here is Rampancy's captain, Jackson Rothe! **

**As before, we're still looking for writers for our Project Freelancer fic, but will but declaring those that we'll be going with in less than a week, so get your asses in gear!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Three - Learn Your Lessons Well**

**Jackson Rothe**

**Written by Lili-Hunter**

* * *

_"It is not true that people are naturally equal, for no two people can be together for even half an hour without one acquiring an evident superiority over the other." _

– Samuel Johnson

* * *

"Alright, Rampancy, listen up!"

Jackson Rothe shifted his weight onto his right leg, crossing his muscled arms in front of his chest. The training center before him looked much as it always did; unforgiving metal surfaces doused in harsh fluorescent lighting. His teammates were scattered to his right and slightly in front of him, as he leant against the back wall of the training room, with one exception; Will was by his shoulder, hands held loosely by the sides of his blue training armour.

Alex, despite Jackson's dark glare, remained with the group of women. No doubt, he was flirting shamelessly with each and every one. God, it was as though he _wanted_ to encourage his reputation, even though it was only half-deserved. Jackson's lip curled, and he clenched his fists. He'd have thought Alex would at least make an attempt at subtlety – especially in front of the Coach – after the whole sexual harassment lecture.

As it was, Coach Ryan Anderson's attention was otherwise held. His eyes were glittering with disapproval, as he glanced at the space separating the captain from the rest of the team. Jackson huffed and rolled his eyes, but made no attempt to move. "Oi! Enough jabbering, it's time to get to work."

One by one, the females – and Alex – gave Coach their attention. He nodded slightly, eyes narrowed, and then swallowed once before continuing. "Over the last couple of days, ladies, I've managed to scrounge up a bit of footage from your matches. I studied your strengths and weaknesses, and now I've decided how best you'll fit into this team."

Idly, Jackson let his gaze run over the three females, wondering what the Coach had seen. Hopefully, nothing too horrifying – as much as he hated to admit it, he needed to use at least one of those girls.

The first woman was long-legged and slender, with caramel skin and dark brown hair that fell in smooth waves. He'd forgotten her name – Eliza? Emily? – but he knew that she was a Defender. Odd, since it was a dying position in the big leagues.

Black-haired and brown-eyed, Arika was next in line. Jackson remembered her name only because she'd been the first to introduce herself to him. She was decidedly average, and he had no idea how she'd managed to land herself a spot in Rampancy.

The last of their new female players was completely unremarkable, if not for the fact that she claimed to be a Tank, despite the fact she didn't look particularly strong. Kiara, he thought her name was. Or something like that, at least. With long red hair and wide blue eyes, she seemed entirely too innocent for the job, if anyone asked him.

Which they hadn't. Because, if Jackson had been consulted, those damn girls wouldn't have been there at all.

"Remember, you've got big shoes to fill. Now, I mean no offence, but Anthony, Brian, and Caleb were good players," Coach Anderson continued. "They deserved their spots on this team, and it's a damn shame that they went and threw them away. Except for Anthony, of course – that was a downright tragedy." Anthony Hawkins had been one of Rampancy's previous Tanks, before breaking his neck and being ruled out from ever playing professional Grifball again. "Anyway, enough rambling about that. What I'm saying, is that you may be good – hell, you may be great – but you've only ever played as amateurs. These boys" – and here, he swept his hands towards Alex, Will, and Jackson – "have been playing in the professional league for years. So, obviously, I'm expecting a bit of difference between you. However, that being said, if you aren't taking every damn opportunity to prove me wrong, then you don't belong here. Rampancy ain't a team for slackers. Work hard, ladies, and we'll get along just swell."

Coach seemed to become suddenly aware that he had gone off on a tangent. He cleared his throat. "Anyway. I took all of this new information under consideration, and I now have the line-up for the next couple of games. Jackson, Alex, Arika and Ellen; you'll be first on the field. Will and Kiara, I'm keeping you on the benches – but only for the first couple of games. Now," he raised his voice, addressing the team at large, "anybody got any problems with that?"

Silence replaced his voice, and the six teammates glanced at each other. Jackson was dumbfounded. _What the hell?_ As if _that_ was what the Coach was proposing. He shook his head, waiting for Will to laugh and call him out on it.

But Will stayed silent.

_Okay, _he thought, with a flash of irritation, _fuck it_. "What the hell, Coach? You can't be serious," he growled. Jackson's green eyes flashed as he strode forward.

"Oh, I'm serious, Rothe."

His lip curled in anger, and the acid in his stomach started to simmer. Jackson's arm flung out, pointing straight at Will. "You can't just put Will on the bench! That's bullshit, Coach, and you know it."

Coach Anderson raised an eyebrow, setting his hands on his hips. "Oh? And your suggestion of having _two_ Runners is perfectly ideal."

"C'mon, Coach, I'm not an idiot-"

"That's debatable," Alex stage-whispered, earning a scathing glare.

"-but you know we can't just _leave_ him out."

"Then what do you suggest?" The question dripped with sarcasm, and Jackson clenched his jaw, the anger and frustration building in his chest. His hands curled into fists, almost subconsciously.

"Will's fast – he'll catch any other team's Runner. Let him play as a Defender, at least. For God's sake," Jackson snapped, "one girl is bad enough. We _need_ Will."

"Jackson!" Coach Anderson's voice cracked in reprimand. Jackson locked his jaw, matching his glare with a defiant one of his own. "A player is a player, and I won't be having any discrimination on my team. You hear that?"

"It's a fact, Coach – we both know it! They're amateurs! Obviously, they're a liability. And I thought it was in our best interests to _minimize_ that liability." The words were delivered with the confidence of someone who knew they spoke the truth. Unfortunately, Coach Anderson just wasn't getting it.

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "If you have a problem with them being here, Rothe…" Coach's hand lifted, pointing unerringly towards the exit at the back of the room. "Door's right there."

They stayed like that, both men frozen and tense, until Will spoke up, waving his hand dismissively. "Jackson, don't worry, man. It's cool. I'm good with staying on the bench. At least for now."

Coach returned his gaze to Jackson, one eyebrow raised pointedly. "Any more of my authority you'd like to question, Jackson?"

There was an insult hidden in there somewhere, and the captain's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, actually, there is."

"Well, shut up, because we have to train and you've wasted enough of my time already."

A laugh burst from Will, who smiled widely at Coach Anderson. "Ah, ever the sweetest, aren't you, Ryan?"

"That's 'Coach Anderson' to you, smartass."

"Geez, '_Coach Anderson'_, I get all tingly when you take control like that," Will smirked.

Coach paused, and seemed to take a deep breath. If Jackson hadn't been busy fighting the urge to put his fist through a wall, he may have snickered. "Alright, enough," Coach said. "First match of the season ain't getting any further away. Warm-ups – I want twenty laps. Move it!"

Jackson let his helmet fall to the floor - it was just unnecessary weight - and then moved forward. For the first couple of laps, the team moved as one – but then, the girls began to fall behind. Alex and Jackson leapt forward, each straining for first place in friendly competition, with Will trailing somewhere in the middle, too lazy to keep up with his friends but easily maintaining his fast pace.

After the twenty laps – which Alex had won, and had taken the three females significantly longer to complete than their male teammates – they did push-ups, chin-ups, and sit-ups, working to warm up their bodies. Jackson was able to win back some of his pride as he completed the set much more efficiently than Alex – after all, he didn't hold up a damn Gravity Hammer all-game for nothing – but he noticed, with no small measure of contempt, that once again, the girls struggled to keep up.

Once their warm-up was completed – though, Jackson doubted if it even deserved to be called that. Those small exercises were pathetic in comparison to their usual routine, and he wondered about the change – Coach Anderson spoke up. "Before I start running you through some of our plays, I want to see you with your weapons. Up and at 'em!"

With a chorus of groans, the team clambered to their feet. Weapon Training may have been one of the more exciting components of a Grifball player's daily routine, but no matter what way you looked at it, getting beaten up by your own teammates was in no way an appealing prospect.

He grouped them into pairs, quickly – Alex and Jackson, Will and Ellen, Arika and Kiara – and told them to use their energy swords first. Coach walked around the small battles as they practiced, critiquing each person's style, form, and overall competency.

Alex grinned cockily, tipping his head to once side. "You ready for this?" he asked Jackson, the challenge clear in his tone.

"What, to beat you up? Cross, I was born ready," Jackson replied, his energy sword bursting into life with a crackle of plasma. For a moment, Will and Ellen were just visible over Alex's right shoulder – the pair danced back and forth, coming to swift and savage blows. Will was obviously holding back, wielding his sword with slightly less skill than usual. Jackson rolled his eyes, and nearly missed Alex's sword flashing to his right.

He jumped back, barely avoiding the blow. "Getting careless there, Jackson," Coach called.

Jackson gritted his teeth, swinging his right arm up for a devastating blow. Alex deflected it, ducking out of the way with a cackle. He responded swiftly with a sharp jab to Jackson's middle, which the captain managed to sidestep quickly.

Despite his skill, Alex landed a few blows – though he was on the receiving end of quite a few, as well. His superior reflexes had saved him from Jackson's sword, but when Coach called for them to switch weapons, the smugness drained from Alex's face. Jackson, jogging back after his latest respawning, laughed in response.

This time, Alex was repeatedly sent flying as Jackson landed blow after blow with his Gravity Hammer. By the time Coach called the mini-fights to a close, the team captain had been respawned only twice – and Alex at least five. He threw a smug grin towards his second, who replied with an annoyed mutter of "asshole" under his breath.

When the Coach deemed them ready, he gathered Rampancy into a semi-circle. They all leant forward, some of the women with their hands on their knees, breathing heavily as they listened. "It's time to run through some of the plays that I think we'll be needing. Also, it's a good idea to get you guys working together, before we let you loose in the stadium. All right? Great," he continued, without waiting for an answer. "There's more to Grifball than catching a ball, and knocking some heads together. It takes strategy, skill, and a fair bit of teamwork to even get your hands on that bomb.

"Now, I'm sure you're all familiar with the rules of Grifball, but if you're not…" Coach trailed off, raising his hands to point at either end of the training hall. "Goals are that way, and the ball's usually right about here," he continued, pointing at their feet. "Don't forget, it tends to go up in celebratory flames whenever you score a point. So steer clear of the explosion, okay? Oh, and that brings me to my next point – watch your radars, for Pete's sake. Try not to step in your teammates splash zone. Or your opponents', actually."

Coach Anderson continued in this fashion for a while, until the foundations had been well and truly laid. By that point, Jackson had nearly fallen asleep. As though they needed to hear this. Alex, Will, and himself practically lived and breathed Grifball – they were more than familiar with the rules of the game. "But, first things first. For the sake of our new players, we're going to run through several basic strategies.

"Firstly; what is the objective of any match?"

_Are you kidding me?_ "Win," Jackson called.

"And how do we do that?"

Alex stepped forward. "Well, you grab the ball," he began, wrinkling his forehead as though he found it hard to remember, "and then you run with it, and then… uh…"

Will nodded sagely, and mimed an explosion with his hands. "Boom," he said wisely.

"Yeah, yeah, we've heard enough from you three. How about you, ladies? What do you think is the easiest way to get a hold of the ball?"

The girls glanced at each other, before one stepped forward. Brown eyes, sleek black hair – Jackson knew her as Arika. One of the more outgoing of the three females.

"At the beginning of the round, teams typically race to get to the ball first. It's usually a bloodbath," she supplied, shrugging.

"That's true," Coach Ryan admitted, "but not what I was looking for. Anyone else?"

When no one else answered – God, could they _be_ any more intimidated? It was, frankly, pissing Jackson off – he let out a loud sigh, and stated the obvious answer. "Launch the ball carrier at the start of the match, and you've got an instant head-start. That is, if he doesn't die immediately." The last sentence was delivered with a meaningful glance towards Alex, whom held up his hands.

"Hey!" he called. "I cannot _believe_ you're still not over that, Jackson. That was two bloody years ago! My shields were all buggered. It happened _once_!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Cross."

Alex huffed indignantly.

"Guys, bring the focus back. Jackson, you were right. Launches are the easiest way to get a hold of the ball, or even to propel your ball carrier across the map for an easy score." The girls were nodding, but Coach pursed his lips. "Boys – care to demonstrate?"

"Dibs as Runner!" Will called instantly, causing an explosion of mock-insults from Alex.

Jackson pulled his helmet over his face, hearing a faint _hiss_ as the training suit sealed automatically. Without it, he could very easily give himself a concussion just by being in the 'splash zone' of his own weapon. Jackson jogged forward, reaching over his shoulder for the handle of his Gravity Hammer. The weight was familiar in his hands, and Alex did the same.

They walked to the centre of the room before stopping and turning to face each other. A gap of five meters separated the pair, and Jackson glanced through his visor, waiting for Will. The Runner had pulled on his helmet, and waited, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Go!" Coach called.

Will exploded into movement, sprinting towards his male teammates. They waited, Hammers ready. When the Runner was almost equal with them, he jumped forward into the air.

Jackson swung the Gravity Hammer instantly. His shoulders burned with the force of his hit, and the room echoed with the resultant boom. Alex had done the same, and Will was thrown through the air. He whooped, tucking into a ball as he flipped, before landing easily. "Touch down!" he roared with a grin, one hand on the floor.

"Eh, good job," Coach told the trio. He then turned back to the team at large. "That's one of the primary launches, and is used the most commonly used. You don't need two launchers, but it's more effective."

"But, that's not the launch you use at the beginning of the match, right? It would take too long to coordinate," one girl interrupted. Her training armour flashed blue and yellow under the fluorescent lights.

Coach nodded, looking mildly surprised. "Good observation, Ellen." Ah, so that was their new Defender's name. Not that Jackson would make any particular effort to remember it. "But, no, you're right – we use a different launch at the beginning. Most players refer to it simply as the "Spawn Bonk Launch". If you four" – he gestured at the three female players, and then at Alex – "could get into a line…" They complied, and watched the Coach expectantly. He paused, and glanced at the girl who had spoken. "Are you familiar with this?"

"Of course," Ellen answered.

"Perfect, you don't need to watch as much. You're number one. Arika, you're two; Alex, three; and Kiara, you'll be fourth. Understand?"

"No." Arika's brow was creased in confusion.

"Well, pay attention! Ellen, once the match starts, you race forward. You're backup, in case this doesn't work. Don't go for the ball – fend off the other team, if you can. Arika and Kiara – as soon as you hear that buzzer go, you spin right around and smash those Gravity Hammers as hard as you can. Alex'll jump straight up and – hopefully – be flung right to the ball. Now do you get it?"

There were a few mumbles of agreement, and Jackson rolled his eyes. He'd known the women would be incapable, but _seriously?_ How the fuck did they not know how to work a simple Spawn Bonk? He just hoped they had the skill not to break any of Alex's bones.

With the recent influx of pathetic females, Rampancy needed all the _man_power it could get.

The rest of the training session continued in much the same fashion – Coach would explain a launch or a strategy, occasionally demanding a demonstration – and Jackson found himself quickly becoming irritated. He'd been here for hours upon hours – especially as he was always first to arrive – and yet he'd barely broken a sweat. Usually, Coach would be driving them into the ground. But with the females, he was obviously going easy for their first training session of the season. Ha! So much for "player equality".

"Okay, enough!" Jackson's voice cracked through the stadium, interrupting Coach's conversation with the redheaded girl, Kiara, and drawing everyone's gaze. He ignored them all, watching only Coach Anderson. "Look, I get that they're new, Coach, but seriously? Stop fucking babysitting. Either they're good enough to play in the professional league, or you have to dumb it down because the _amateurs_" – his voice was dipped in acid, and one of the girls, Kiara, flinched – "can't handle it. One or the other, Coach."

"What are you trying to say, Jackson?" Coach's gaze was ice-cold.

Jackson raised a hand, gesturing angrily. "God, are you even listening to yourself? You've gone through every fucking play, launch, and strategy _in the history of Grifball_. I don't think they'd learn anymore if you slapped 'em with a textbook. We" – he pointed at himself, Will, and then Alex – "know it all. For God's sake, you're boring us to tears. If they" – he gestured back to women, each movement sharp and angry – "need special attention, then they shouldn't be here. We need professionals on this team. Not toddlers."

"Stop being an ass." An unexpected voice called out the insult, and Jackson nearly laughed. Seriously? _That _was their comeback? "You can't expect us to be 'professionals' already. It's our first day." Finally, he realized who had spoken. It was one of the girls – Ellen. Her dark eyes flashed with rage, her hands on her hips.

Jackson's cold gaze snapped to meet hers. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I offend you?" His tone was soaked in sarcasm, and he rolled his eyes. "I was told you were 'special'. Or, at the very damn least, good at what you do. So far, you haven't given me a single reason to believe that." He made a noise of disgust, and shook his head.

"You haven't even given us the chance!" A new voice called out, high and decidedly feminine. It was Kiara, the redheaded Tank, whom was incredibly shy. This was probably the first time she'd spoken all training. Jackson scoffed.

"Were you waiting for me to give you permission?" he replied, watching as she seemed to shrink under his disapproval. He threw his hands in the air. "You know what? Fine. You want to prove yourself? Go ahead."

There was a moment of silence, before Arika, at Kiara's shoulder, responded. "What?"

"You don't think I've given you a chance. So, I want you" – he raised a hand to point at Kiara as he backed away from the crowd slightly, giving himself room – "to attack me with your sword."

"I-" Kiara looked, helpless, towards Coach Anderson. He remained impassive, hands crossed over his chest as he watched the showdown.

"Scared?" Jackson growled. The challenge was clear, and suddenly Kiara's mouth moulded into a hard line.

His eyes narrowed as she charged at him. Jackson's hand tightened, slightly, on the energy sword by his side and the plasma exploded instantly into life.

With a yell, she slashed the energy sword in her right fist towards his chest. Jackson's left arm lashed out, easily knocking her forearm aside. His fingers tightened around her wrist at the last second, keeping the Tank captive, as her right hand automatically lashed out towards his face. But his forearm was already blocking her blow, as he jabbed towards her now-unprotected throat.

Jackson pulled back at the last second, so that the energy sword crackled merely inches from her skin. Her blue eyes were wide, and his gaze was hard as he forced her to look into his eyes.

"That," he began, voice cold, "was disgusting."

Jackson shoved her free, barely noticing as Kiara stumbled. His energy sword faded as he clasped it to his belt, raising his gaze to meet those of his team. "Training's over, everyone," he called. "Go home."

And with that, the team captain spun on his heel, and stormed into the men's locker room.

* * *

"Jackson."

The Rampancy Hybrid paused, in the middle of pulling his duffel bag from his locker, at the voice that sounded from behind him. His teeth grinded against each other, borderline painful, as he resisted the urge to throw his fist into his locker door. "'Sup, Coach."

"Look at me, Jackson." He obliged, leaning on the locker at his back as he crossed his arms. The cool metal pressed uncomfortably into his back, but he ignored it. Coach Anderson's lined face was stern, with the flickers of true anger burning in his eyes. Jackson rolled his eyes. "What's gotten into you?"

"What?" he replied, defensive. "I gave them what they wanted."

"After insulting and provoking them! Damn it, Jackson, but I expected you to be better than this. You're meant to be the Team Captain – start acting like it. The women are just as much part of Rampancy as Will or Alex."

"Oh, drop it, would you? We both know I only said what we were all thinking."

"See? This is exactly what I'm talking about. I don't know where this is coming from, but to be frank, it's not impressing me at all. Drop the attitude."

Jackson exhaled angrily. "You 'don't know where this is coming from'? Give me a break, Coach. You can't just hand me half a team of weak, timid, amateur women and expect me to be okay with that! I wanted some valuable players, not a bunch of damn girls!"

"Really. So that's your problem: you don't want women on your team." Coach Anderson's voice was flat.

Jackson slammed his locker door shut. "If you want to dumb it down, then yeah."

"Jackson, I know you're not sexist. What is it, really?"

The Hybrid looked at him scathingly. "No, Coach, of course I'm not sexist. But it's a fact – women are physically inferior. It can't be helped, and it's not their fault. But for God's sake, don't shove them onto my team and expect me to be okay with it."

There was a long moment of silence as Coach Anderson pursed his lips. His chin dipped slowly, as he seemed to consider his answer. Eventually he spoke, shaking his head slightly. "Ah, I see."

Jackson breathed a sigh of relief. "So, can we get some real men on our team?"

Coach's head shot back up, a look of incredulous disbelief on his face. "No! Suck it up! Whatever twisted views you may have, I've watched these women and I know how they play. They deserve their spot on Rampancy, Jackson, so put your damn helmet on and be a team captain they can be proud of!"

"But, Coach-"

"No 'but's, Rothe! You stop being an idiot, and get your head in the game! These women are good, and I know they can only help the team. So stop whining about them and start whipping them into a team _you_ can be proud of!"

"Coach-"

"That's an order."

Jackson paused, holding back the barrage of complaints. Coach Anderson just didn't understand. If he'd let him explain, then he'd get it.

Coach beamed – and if it was possible for a smile to be sarcastic, then he was doing it. "Great! Now have a shower, boy, 'cause you stink." And with that, he departed from the room.

Jackson nearly growled, and resisted the urge to fling his duffel bag at Coach Anderson's disappearing back. He glanced up at the familiar creak of a door being opened. He glanced at his teammate. "Hey, Will."

"Heard you talking to the Coach." The Runner's hazel eyes were guarded. "You really think that about the girls?"

Jackson scoffed. "'Think'? It's a scientific fact."

His friend nodded slowly. "I guess, but…"

"Oh, for God's sake. Not you, too."

Will rolled his eyes, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. "Just don't be a dick to them, all right? Give 'em a chance, at least."

"I did," Jackson reminded him. "If you remember correctly."

"No, you didn't. You just scared Kiara shitless."

Jackson barked a laugh, shaking his head. "I was proving a point."

"Whatever, man." Will avoided his gaze, slowly stacking his training armour back into his locker.

"Fine," Jackson growled. It annoyed him that Will, his friend of however-many-years, had abruptly taken the girls' side. "Have it your way. Tomorrow's their last chance."

"Good enough," Will grinned, shutting his locker door and lifting his bag onto his shoulder. He held out a fist, and Jackson bumped it with a smirk. "See ya tomorrow, Cappie."

"Ass," Jackson grumbled, fighting a laugh. As Will disappeared, Jackson thought over his words. _Tomorrow's their last chance_, he'd said.

Abruptly, he laughed. Yeah, right. As though any one of them could prove him wrong. Coach would see soon enough – and surely, then, Jackson could convince him to get some real players for Rampancy.

With that thought firm in his mind, Jackson grabbed his bag and left the Rampancy training facilities, grinning to Coach Anderson as he left.


	5. Chapter 4: Rampant Party Animals

**(A/N) Hey guys, time for the latest Grifball: Running Rampant chapter, and this one takes us away from the high-octane Grifball circuit, as the girls head out, and end up having a more eventful night than they anticipated. Written by TunelessLyric, welcome to the POV of Miss Arika Myles! Hope you'll all enjoy this as much as I did.**

**We've shut up shot for Phase Two applicants, and have selected our new additions to our team of writers, so congratulations to all those who made it, and commiserations to those that we were unfortunately not able to accept at this time.**

**Anyway, as I said before, enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Four – Rampant Party Animals**

**Arika Myles**

**Written by TunelessLyric**

* * *

_"Why is partying and having a good time bad?" - _Tara Reid

* * *

Arika snapped her makeup bag shut with a sharp crack. She took the top layer of lip gloss off with a swipe of her tongue and took a critical look in the mirror. Her black hair was swept up into a knot high on her head. Dramatic eye shadow made her deep brown eyes stand out.

"Are you ready _yet_?" demanded Ellen jokingly.

Arika huffed good-naturedly. "You can't rush perfection." She turned away from her mirror.

Kiara waved their antics away with a hand. "So, where exactly is this place?"

"Just the other side of the stadium," answered Arika with a shrug. "I've been there loads of times. Pretty hot club. Are you guys ready for some dancing?"

Ellen rolled her eyes. "Can we just go?" she asked. "You can tell us all about it on the ride over. If you have to."

Arika stalked out of the bathroom and hooked her arms into her teammates'. As she dragged them from her apartment – which appeared to have been a department store that had seen one too many tornadoes – where the trio had gotten done up for the night on the town. Outfits were strewn over the floor and assorted cheap furniture, makeup and nail polish of varying shades covered most horizontal surfaces. Arika snatched up a hand bag and her keys on her way out the door.

Twenty minutes later, the girls were getting out of their cab. Arika tilted her head back and took in the sight of the towering club. Pulsing lights in a myriad of shades and hues painted the darkening sky and pavement. She could feel the bass thumping in her ribcage.

"Wow, it's huge," breathed Kiara.

"Are you kidding? This is nothing compared to Club Errera in New Alexandria on Reach," put in Ellen.

"Whatever. It's nicer _inside_," said Arika meaningfully. Although the night was still comparatively warm, a sharp breeze was cutting through her pale green halter dress. She shivered and tried to hurry her companions.

Ellen, in her silver skirt and pale gray blouse looked striking. Kiara was going for more the sweeter side of her personality with the soft blue sundress hugging her body. The redhead was the next to attempt to cajole Ellen inside.

The tall woman relented, grudgingly, despite her dismissive words on the building. Arika led the way over to the bar. She ordered a drink, leaning on the crystal surface.

"I thought we were here to dance…?" said Kiara. Her eyebrows were drawn down thoughtfully.

"This," Arika held up her glass, "is how I dance."

Ellen shrugged. "As long as you don't hurt yourself in those heels."

Arika laughed. "Clearly, you haven't seen me at work on the dance floor."

"Do I have to?" inquired Kiara. Her innocent expression made Arika and Ellen burst out with giggles.

Kiara pouted and dove into the mass of dancing people behind her. Her teammates weren't far behind. Soon the three were all bopping enthusiastically to the beat. The tension and frustration of the first Rampancy training was long forgotten now.

Despite the fact that they had all poured blood, sweat and tears into getting onto the prestigious pro league team, _some_ teammates didn't seem to appreciate the effort they had made. Arika shook herself out of the dark and mutinous thoughts concerning a certain infuriating team captain. She still had fun, showing off and going through her paces for the more fair-minded men involved in the team. Jackson would realize what kind of assets the three female players would be after their first game.

"Hey."

Arika started at the low voice in her ear. She spun around, angry words lined up on her tongue, to face the blond hair and green eyes of Alex. She blew out a noisy sigh. "Frick, you nearly made me have an aneurism," she scolded.

An apologetic expression totally failed to cross his face. "Yeah, I'm sure I did."

Arika quirked an eyebrow. "What'cha want?"

Alex stroked his chin thoughtfully, eyes sweeping Ellen's graceful figure as she continued to dance. "What I want is to dance near her."

"I don't know about that..." Arika trailed off when she noticed he wasn't even listening to her.

He pushed over to their teammate, gently setting Kiara aside to do so. She threw him a faintly curious glance and moved over to Arika.

"How did we end up at the same place as him?" she muttered.

"No idea," Arika replied absently, watching the exchange take place.

Alex leaned in close to Ellen and put forward his request, practically yelling to make himself heard. She drew back and pretended to consider it for a short moment. Then she slowly shook her head with a smile.

Defeated, the blond slid over to Arika and Kiara.

"She said no," he sighed in mock hurt. "That woman will break my heart."

"There are plenty of fish in the sea," laughed Arika.

With a shrug and a head bob, Alex brightened. "That one over there looks pretty." He began shouldering towards the new girl.

"Just remember we have to be up early in the morning!" Kiara called at his back.

The crowd closed around him and Ellen joined them again.

"He really is sweet," she conceded. "Just, not my type."

"Not your type?" Arika repeated in scandalized tones. "He's funny and smart. Hell of a looker, too."

Kiara's eyebrows shot up. "Really? Are you suggesting you want to dance with Alex?"

Arika rolled her eyes. "Nope. I don't get involved with teammates."

"Funny, that's just what I told him," Ellen said. "We gonna dance, or what?"

A new song had started, louder than the last. Kiara shook her head. "I need something to drink, I'm thirsty. You guys want anything?"

The others both declined the offer. "We'll be over here when you get back," added Arika.

Kiara hadn't been gone for long when Ellen leaned over to Arika. "I still can't believe we're in the pro league," she commented.

"Still hasn't sunk in yet," her teammate agreed. "Pretty wild, eh?"

"Sure is, you think we'll win our first game?"

Arika honestly had no answer. Based on that day's training, she would have to say definitely not. The cohesion was sorely lacking right now. There was no way she would trust Jackson to be objective on the floor if he didn't get it through his head that they were all on the same side. On the other hand, she, Ellen and Kiara had beat out other prospective girls for their places on Rampancy's roster. They had the competitive streak. Alex was a mover in the arena, Will had a knack for reading the other team and running. Jackson, as loath as Arika was to admit it, knew his plays. Plus, there was still training time left before the first match.

Ellen elbowed Arika lightly as if to remind her of the question.

The Tank sighed. "We better have some marshmallows on the other team."

"What? Do you really doubt us _that_ much?"

"I think we could use some time," replied Arika evenly. "And it's not us per se; more like a certain _us_."

Ellen nodded sagely. "Say no more. I understand now."

"Jeez, did Kiara go to _make_ her drink in the back?" grumbled Arika. "She's been gone for a really long time."

Ellen frowned. "You want to find her?"

Arika weighed her options. If they left and the reserve Tank came back, there would be trouble. But Arika knew the city wasn't fully safe at night. And there were some very drunk idiots hanging around bars around this time. "Yeah. Worst case scenario, she'll come back and be angry we abandoned her."

The Defender wove through the dancing people easily. Her height and build made enough clubbers move without a hesitation, paired up with Arika the women were downright frightening.

Through a gap in the throng, they glimpsed their teammate. She was being berated by some man in an orange Grifball tee not far from the bar. Arika breezed up to them and gave the man a hard glare.

"Well, what's all this about, children?" she asked pointedly.

"This is Ethan Hughes. He's an avid Grifball follower," explained Kiara, her normally light voice a little strained.

"I can speak for myself, _thank you_." Mr. Hughes seemed more than a little strained.

Arika had to resist the urge to sigh and put her face in her hands. "Can we help you?"

"You can help me by leaving the professional circuit and going back to doing whatever it is you women do all day," Ethan griped.

Ellen's eyebrows rose sharply. "Oh? Is that so?"

"I'm sorry you feel that way," added Arika, trying to keep the situation under control. A bar fight would hardly reflect well on her and her teammates when Coach – or Jackson – found out in the morning. That would go over like a lead balloon. "However, my teammates and I have worked very hard – "

"I don't think you understand," Ethan interrupted hotly.

Ellen jumped in then. "Really, we don't understand? Maybe you should explain."

Ethan's jaw clenched and his grey eyes flashed. "_I_ was supposed to be picked up by Rampancy. They had already contacted my agent, ready to take me out of the amateur circuit! You stole my chance to play!"

Arika was incredulous. "Jealousy, my dear sir," she drawled," does not become you."

Kiara laid a warning hand on the Tank's arm. "Don't."

"I guess you'll just have to get used to us being on Rampancy – and female – while you hang out on the sidelines," Ellen added. "Let's go, guys."

With that, she dragged Arika by the arm away from the bar. Kiara followed close behind her teammates.

"God, I hate people," muttered Arika darkly, not caring Ethan could probably still hear her. "I think it's nearly time to crash."

Ellen glanced at her watch. "Holy crap!" she exclaimed. "I would say so. It's almost one in the morning."

"We have to be up so early, too," moaned Kiara. "Jackson'll kill us."

"Well, there's no use whining about it, let's get ourselves a ride home." Arika lamented the massive mess in her normally tidy apartment. Her arm started to twitch at the thought of how badly it needed to be cleaned up. And the long hours at training that would prevent that from happening anytime tomorrow.

The girls hurried outside and managed to flag down a cab. Since she lived the nearest, Arika was the first standing on her doorstep. She had already let herself into her apartment and gotten halfway ready for bed when Kiara and Ellen both messaged her that the pair had arrived home safely across town.

Arika fell into bed exhausted from her long day. Already a splitting headache was beginning to form. She groaned and shut her eyes, trying not to listen to the nagging voice of Ethan Hughes. _You stole my chance to play._

Maybe Jackson was right. Women just couldn't make it in the real world of professional Grifball.

That wasn't true at all, and her female teammates would be the first to dispute it. Maybe they didn't belong yet, but soon…

…Soon they would prove they deserved to play on the pro circuit just as much as her male Rampancy teammates.


	6. Chapter 5: Early Start

**(A/N) Hey, all, it's time for another update for Grifball: Running Rampant! Hope you guys all enjoy this chapter, because I know that I sure as hell did! A big announcement for this fic will be coming up very shortly, within the next few weeks, so stay tuned, and watch this space!**

**Assume most of you checked out Roosterteeth's debut episode of their new webseries, RWBY, and, if not, then what the hell are you waiting for?! Get to it!**

**As always, enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Five - Early Start**

**Kiara Thomas**

**Written by Minaethiel**

* * *

_"There's more women stars in Nashville all the time. They're proving they can do the job the same as a man." _- Loretta Lynn

* * *

It was going to take some time for me to get used to all this newfound attention. In the amateur Grifball leagues, we didn't get nearly this much fame and fanfare as the pro players. The sight of all the press outside of the Rampancy training building earlier had been jarring to me, and just a bit scary. The press hadn't been the only ones present either; there had been a few curious onlookers, no doubt wanting to get a glimpse of the first few women who were going to be professional players. I knew that there were a lot of skeptics out there who doubted the capabilities of women in a male dominated sport, but after spending time with Arika and Ellen, I was confident that we would prove the doubters wrong. The first hurdle, however, was proving to the team that we were just as capable as they were.

Jackson had made it very clear earlier that he never expected us to make it as professionals; at least that was my impression. After my botched attempt yesterday at taking my newest captain down with my sword, he had pretty much written us off, and me in particular it seemed. What frustrated me the most was how he expected us to be just as skilful as seasoned professionals when we had just been taken from the lower leagues. Needless to say, my first impression of Jackson had not been the best. To me, he was arrogant and self-centred. After our little incident during training, he had left right after to "win" the argument. The men on the team seemed accustomed to it, but I hadn't been impressed. If I had things my way I'd ignore him until he actually admitted his horrible manners, but as he was the captain, ignoring him was out of the question. Instead, I'd just have to work harder to earn my place as a respectable player.

At least the coach seemed to already see us ladies as good prospects. Before we had even started training, he had basically said that gender hadn't mattered, and that we were to respect each other as players. Obviously we were going to need some time to get to know each other so we could reach that full team dynamic, but everyone on the team seemed ready to.

The day hadn't been all bad though; Arika, Ellen, and I had headed out for a night just to ourselves to get to know one another and celebrate our sudden rise in "status" so-to-speak. It had been nice to spend time with the other girls; we were all essentially "underdogs," at least according to certain Grifball fans or commentators. Ellen was a sweet girl, and was far more social than I could ever hope to be. When it came to partying, the girl knew how to have a good time. When she got on the dance floor, I could swear that she distracted half of the bar. However what I liked most was how she didn't seem to let any of the attention go to her head. Her good attitude would probably end up keeping me sane during future confrontations with Jackson.

Arika was just as outgoing as Ellen was, and it had been a new experience for me to talk to two people so bubbly. She had also admirably tried to deal with Ethan, though that knucklehead hadn't listened to a thing she had said. All in all though, I had warmed up to them, at least enough to get over my normal aversion to people. The night had gone by fast, and we ended up parting ways to catch some sleep before practice. My old team had practice start at around seven, so I decided to wake at six and get to the gym at around six thirty to get in some early warm-ups. However, partway through the night, I was jarred awake by the sound of my phone going off. Groaning in dismay, I looked at the clock; it was only five in the morning. Annoyed, I picked up, fully prepared to give the offender an ear-full.

"Might I ask who is calling so early?"

"For a professional player who has yet to prove herself, Thomas, I expect a bit more of a respectful response."

I blanched as I recognized the voice.

"Shit, I'm sorry Coach, I thought you were someone else."

"Clearly. Up and at 'em, Sleeping Beauty, it's time to get down to the training facilities. You rookies are going to need to work hard to get into top shape for the big leagues."

I sat up and rubbed tired blue eyes, inwardly cursing about the lost hour of sleep when I had been up until at least one thirty.

"Yes Sir, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I expect so; see you soon."

With that, he hung up, leaving me to prepare. My armour was at the Rampancy centre in my locker, so I packed lightly, packing a change of clothes for after the session in a duffle bag, and tying up my long red hair in a ponytail. Other than that, I wore workout shorts, and a form-fitting t-shirt. Coach hadn't explained our training regime in full the previous day, so I figured it was better to be caught over prepared than underprepared. Satisfied, I grabbed the duffle and ran out of my house, hastily locking the door before jogging for the training centre. I probably looked goofy to any passersby in the early hour, my duffle was tucked against my chest and my hair was flying behind me, however I firmly believed that an early morning cardio workout would serve me well in the coming weeks considering how much running we did in Grifball.

I arrived at the facilities thirty minutes later, and found that I was the third to arrive. Jackson and Will were already there, but I didn't find myself surprised since they were technically veterans of the team. Jackson made his way into the front door, but Will waited until I had caught up and held the door for me. I was a bit out of breath from the jog over here, but I still managed a smile.

"Thanks, Will. Jackson seems like he's a hurry to get inside."

Will motioned for me to continue in, and I obliged, happy to get out of the chilly morning air.

"Anything for a charming woman such as yourself. Jackson usually gets here first. He and the coach usually discuss things in the morning before training starts."

I felt a blush creep up my cheeks at his flirty tone, and I tried to hide it. If there was one thing I was unused to, it was attention from men. Hell, I hadn't even had a boyfriend yet. I fought to keep my voice steady as I continued into the building.

"Any idea what Coach is going to throw at us today?"

"Do you mean besides his inspiring speeches?"

I chuckled slightly.

"Come _on_, Weissman, don't tell me you don't have some insider information for me."

"Well, _Thomas_, I don't think I'm at liberty to say."

It was such a cheesy and dramatic tone that I punched him lightly on the arm, trying to hold back laughter.

"Have it your way, Mr. Mystery. I'll see you on the floor."

He nodded, and I made my way into the women's locker room. As I opened it, I took a long look at my armour. It was the standard Venator class armour set. The entire set just _looked _dangerous, and that was exactly what I hoped other players would think when they saw me. The main colour was just your basic blue, Rampancy's home colours, but I had requested that the trim be a bright yellow. Under the lights of the arena, it almost looked like lightning was racing its way around the armour. I smiled slightly and began the process of strapping on the armour, my movements quick and precise. The door opened again, and I heard the familiar voices of Arika and Ellen.

Peeking my head around the corner, I waved a gauntlet less hand.

"Good morning you two, did you enjoy the early wake up call?"

Arika nodded while grabbing her gear out of her locker.

"I almost couldn't sleep; I couldn't wait for the chance to prove Jackson wrong."

Jackson's comments from yesterday still seemed to be a driving point for today.

"Oh come on, we all know that we're good; what do we have to prove to him?"

I nodded in agreement to Ellen's words, but part of me was aching for the chance to prove myself to the gruff team captain. I pulled on my helmet and exited the locker room. The walk to the training area itself was rather uneventful, and I saw that I was the fourth one to arrive when entered the gym and looked around. Coach Anderson nodded and beckoned me over, and I took a place beside Alex. Coach Anderson threw me a questioning look.

"Ellen and Arika?"

"In the locker room, suiting up. They should be here in a couple of minutes."

"We're here now!"

At the sound of Arika's voice, all of our heads turned to observe the two women at the gym door. They made imposing figures, and I couldn't help but wonder what Jackson thought of them. Coach just smirked.

"Good timing, ladies. We'll see if you're standing so tall after today's training session. Ok people here's what I want: twenty reps of ten for push-ups and sit-ups, and ten reps of ten for pull-ups. After you're all done with that, you'll be taking a two-mile run fully armoured, including your standard Grifball equipment, and that includes a bomb, ladies and gentlemen. We'll finish off the session with a three-on-three match, the best of five games wins. Now get to it! I don't want to see any slacking!"

All of us nodded and went to various points to begin the day. I found myself working with Alex doing pull-ups on the bars, and he kept shooting sideways glances at me. After the fifth rep my arms were feeling sore, and his glances were starting to unnerve me. Finally, I turned to the left and met his gaze squarely.

"Can I help you, Alex?

"Not at all, I'm just enjoying the view."

Though he couldn't see through my visor, I rolled my eyes in mild amusement. Alex's reputation for getting close with women preceded him; his many affairs had been on the news a lot. However, he seemed like a nice-enough guy. He had been welcoming yesterday, and had given me no reason to dislike him. That's why I decided to play along with him.

"Yes, the iron bars are quite lovely, aren't they? And the windows being placed so high up on the wall give a good impression of a prison."

He chuckled a bit (how he managed to do so while doing pull-ups I will never understand) and made a move to reply, until Coach Anderson's voice loudly interrupted.

"Thomas! Cross! Save the chit-chat for later!"

"Yes, Coach!"

However, I lowered my voice once more to remark to Alex, "three guesses who the warden is."

He chuckled again, and the both of us fell into a comfortable silence as we finished our reps. By the time I had finished with my pull-ups, my arms were screaming obscenities at me, and I hadn't even gotten to start my push-ups. Sighing, I headed over to the mats and began, counting the reps in my head as they went by. Upon reaching my fifth rep, I felt someone else join me, and looked to my right to see Jackson drop down and begin his push-ups. I sighed internally, really not wanting to make an enemy of the team captain.

"So… is every day like this?"

He replied without a sideways glance.

"Pretty much."

"Do you have any tips for playing in the pro league?"

Now he did pause and looked over to me. I stopped mid push-up and met his gaze

"Yes. Just stay out of our way."

With that, he went back to his reps, leaving me staring incredulously. What problem did this guy have with women and Grifball? It wouldn't take long for us to get into shape for pro games, and if we had been selected to go pro in the first place, then we must be good. Narrowing my eyes, I focused on finishing my push-ups before moving onto sit-ups. Luckily, I ended up with Arika and Ellen, and both looked like they had just finished up their pull-ups. For the duration of the exercise, we chatted amiably about pretty much everything, particularly what we hoped to see in the pro leagues.

"So, did your old coach drive you this hard, Arika?"

Ironically, this came just as coach Anderson began to say how his grandmother could work faster than the boys over at push-ups could. Arika shook her head.

"Nope, but it seems like he has a successful regime. The boys are well-muscled after all."

I couldn't dispute that fact, judging from the view of Will's arms earlier. The rest of the workout passed silently. Well, as silently as it could with Coach Anderson yelling at us to actually _work_. I sighed and tried to ignore the fire that was burning through my abs, focusing on my actual movements than the pain. My old coach definitely hadn't pushed us this far, but there was no denying Anderson's methods.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen! Get your asses over here."

I gladly complied, removing my helmet for a brief respite from the heat.

"Take a five minute water break, and meet back here. We're going to be taking a nice mid-morning run."

Damn, I was really starting to regret not taking the bus over here now. Nevertheless, I exited the gym and went to the locker room. Flipping open my locker, I grabbed my water bottle and chugged as much water as I could. Though it was room temperature, it felt ice cold as it slid down my throat. Sighing, I grabbed my helmet and replaced it on my head.

Upon entering the gym, Coach Anderson tossed a Grifball at me.

"Pick a treadmill, Thomas, and start running."

I nodded and walked on the closest one I could find. As I started running, I tried to find the most comfortable position to carry the Grifball in. I was no runner; I had always been set on clearing the field for the runner to score. In my opinion, tanking held more chance for good plays than running did. After all, what was the runner without their tanks? However by the first half-mile, I had found a fairly comfortable position with the Grifball and was trying to focus on the pounding of my armoured feet against the treadmill, and of the next mile and a half to be run.

"Ok everyone, good run. Off the treadmills, it's time to put your skills to the test. It will be three on three games, and the first team to get to three points wins. Blue team will be Arika, Ellen, and Alex. Red team will be Jackson, Will, and Kiara. Any questions?"

No one spoke up, and I could almost taste the eagerness everyone had to get on the field and play. I myself was fairly excited to finally get back in the game. I hadn't played since being told that I was moving to the pro leagues. Dropping the Grifball I had been given in the equipment room, I swung my gravity hammer into my hands and made for the Rampancy field. It was your standard size for a Grifball court, and was lit up by blue lights. A surge of happiness shot through me at the familiar sight, and I jogged over to where Will and Jackson were standing.

"Ok guys, what's the plan?"

Will nodded to Jackson, who looked me over.

"Kiara, I want you up front. The second the round starts I want you to charge the ball and knock out whomever is running for it. I'll be sure to mop up whoever survives. Will should be right behind me ready to grab the ball and charge the scoring plate since everyone should be respawning by then. It should be an easy score, unless Alex catches on."

I nodded and took my place at the "spawning" line, gravity hammer at the ready. For that brief second before the game started, there was that tense calm before the storm; a feeling of readiness that settles over the court. When Coach Anderson finally blew the whistle, all Hell broke loose. At once I ran for the ball, sticking to Jackson's plan. Arika and Ellen also were coming out to meet me, and as soon as I felt close enough, I brought my hammer up and slammed it down to the ground. Unfortunately Arika had the same idea too, and slammed her hammer down just as mine met the ground. Pain engulfed my whole body, but was replaced by the familiar feeling of respawning.

The sight that greeted me was beautiful though. Jackson had taken Alex down, and Will was behind him running the ball to the score plate. I began to run forward to help out, but found it was unnecessary as Will planted the bomb and ran back to avoid the inevitable explosion. Coach blew his whistle, signalling the end of the round just as the Grifball went off and re-spawned in the centre of the room. Jackson and Will hustled over to the starting point, and I held my hammer out for a celebratory tap. Both men obliged, but Jackson seemed like he was doing it as a favour.

Jackson's attitude wasn't bothering me at the moment though; his plan had worked, and he deserved to have just a little bit of smugness. The next round, however, proved not to be as fruitful. Jackson's plan this time was for us to make a triangle shape; he and I in front and further apart, and Will behind us in the middle. We dispatched Ellen easily enough, but Jackson and I were blindsided as Arika came in from our left and demolished all of us, leaving Alex a clear shot to the scoring plate. The Rampancy runner didn't hesitate, and a cheer went up from blue team as he placed the bomb on the plate.

It didn't take a genius to see that Jackson was irritated by the loss. Nevertheless, he seemed to steel himself as he brought us into a huddle.

"Same plan as the first round you two. This time, I'll be up front."

I had my doubts about Jackson's strategy working a second time, but decided not to voice them. For all I knew the blue team could fall for it again. We took our spaces at the spawning line and waited for the coach's whistle to go off again. Will flashed me a thumbs up, and I could almost imagine the excitement playing across his features. I returned the gesture, and was caught off guard as the whistle went off. Two precious seconds were lost as I tried to catch up to Jackson, but my delay had cost us. Jackson dispatched Arika and Alex only to have Ellen clean him up, and by the time I got there, she was fully prepared for me. The sound of her hammer hitting the ground was jarring, and I felt myself go rocketing back to the wall and slamming into it. I groaned in agony as the respawn occurred, and I cracked my neck when I finally came to.

Will was in an intense game of chicken with Ellen, and Jackson was moving to assist. However, neither man saw Alex sprinting past them with the bomb. Whipping out my energy sword, I ran out to meet him. Unfortunately, Alex saw this too, and veered to move behind Arika, who charged me without hesitation. I rushed to take my hammer out and managed to slam it to the ground just as she did. Before the respawn process took hold, I could see Arika flying back towards her spawn. I spawned just in time to see Alex plant the bomb for the second time. As it exploded, Will and Jackson returned to where I was standing. Jackson shook his head in contempt as he passed by me, and I couldn't help by kick myself. My first day of practicing fully with Rampancy and I was making rookie mistakes left and right!

I now pulled out my energy sword and waited. The score was two to one, and if the blue team scored again our little game would be over. With this in mind, I took a deep, steadying breath, and tried to concentrate. When the whistle blew for the fourth time, I was off like a shot. You didn't see many players rush with a sword, and I was thankful for that. There was a key to using the sword, and it depended on using the confidence of your target against them. As Alex came rushing at me, I stood still and waited. At the right time, I stepped off as he swung his hammer, and then lunged with my sword as he was pulling his hammer back up. The force of my slash sent him sprawling back onto the floor, where the respawn process took him from there. I spun to see my next target; Arika, who was attempting to corral Will into a corner. Will had the Grifball and wasn't about to drop it, so I sprinted over and drove my sword through her back while Will ran for the score plate. Jackson had just dispatched Ellen, and together we formed up to keep the path clear. Alex made a final rush and slammed Jackson into the ground, but I mopped him up and allowed Will to place the bomb on the plate.

I smiled as I waltzed away from the explosion, pleased with my performance for this particular round. However the score was now tied at two to two, and it was our last chance to win the game. Jackson gathered us all together.

"Ok, this is the last round. Will, when you get the ball, I'm going to try and launch you across the arena. If I accidently kill you, I'll pick up the bomb and run it. Kiara, you'll need to cover us. Do you think you can handle that?"

I wasn't appreciative of his tone, but I dipped my head in ascent.

"I'll do my best, Jackson."

"As I would expect. Let's get this done."

Jackson broke the huddle and we took our places. The tension in the air was even more palpable now, as all of us knew that this was our final chance to come out on top. At Coach Anderson's whistle, I exploded forward as if propelled by a cannon. I managed to slam down my hammer and catch Ellen in the splash damage, but I felt a hammer hit me directly from my left that sent me into respawn. Now Alex was in charge of the ball, and Arika was attempting to clear his way. I brought my sword out and noticed Will was working his way from the right; neither Arika nor Alex had noticed. Smirking, I rushed them both at the same time Will did, and was rewarded as Will managed to take down Alex and Arika since she had swung her hammer to take me down.

Now Will was in possession of the Grifball, and Jackson veered to join him. I slammed my hammer down on the now-respawned Alex as he rushed the two, and heard the beautiful sound of Will whooping as he flew through the air. He landed near the score plate and planted the bomb before running over to slam Jackson's hand in a high-five.

"Yes! Way to go, you two!"

I went over to join Jackson and Will, and gave Will a high-five as well. Coach Anderson had walked onto the field.

"Great job, Red Team. That will conclude practice for today, but keep on your toes."

All of us nodded, and he headed off towards his office. I moved towards the door to head to the locker room, but was stopped by a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see Jackson standing there, and he gave me a grudging nod.

"Not too bad."


	7. Chapter 6: Just Smile and Wave

**(A/N) Hey all, time for our latest Grifball: Running Rampant update, and this one is brought to you by ParabolaOfMystery, whom some of you may recognise as Carolina's writer in Phase One: Genesis. Personally loved this chapter, and I hope you all will too! Going to keep this short and sweet, so without further ado...**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter Six – Just Smile and Wave**

**Will Weissman**

**Written by ParabolaOfMystery**

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_"I laugh and joke, but I don't get distracted very easily."_ - LeBron James

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Will clapped his hands together excitedly. "Ah, I do love press conferences." In front of them, dozens of chattering reporters were already scribbling notes on their little yellow pads and bustling about to try and get the best spot. Shiny black camera lenses winked at them and flashed and recorded. The entire team was there, seated at a long table bursting with microphones. Each seat had a little gold plaque in front of it, inscribed with their names. Every seat was filled except for Coach Anderson's. Will refused to call him anything except for 'Coach.'

Jackson squinted against the lights. He pulled at his collar, uncomfortable. "I never saw the appeal," he grumbled. His hair was slightly shiny with gel, and his tie was askew. He had the obvious air of someone that really, really didn't want to be there, which Will didn't understand. He liked interviews and press conferences, for the most part. "Why can't we just start without Coach? This will be over with much faster."

Will laughed. "Come on, buddy. Wink at the cameras. The girls will go crazy. Want me to demonstrate?"

Jackson smirked. "You can't even wink. You just end up blinking." Will grinned. There was a smile. Well, not much of one, but it was something. The guy really just needed to loosen up. Relax. He'd been on a major edge this week, with the girls and everything. Will knew that eventually the girls could get on their level of talent, but Jackson didn't.

Their other teammates seemed to be having a good time so far, with the exception of Kiara. Arika looked pretty, Will had to admit, with her black hair down instead of tucked into her helmet. It was strange to see her all dressed up for the conference. Meanwhile, Ellen looked the part of a professional female player- strong, poised, intelligent. Will could already tell the cameras would love her. Both girls were on either side of Alex, who looked perfectly pleased to be explaining press conference basics to them. He talked with his hands, and Arika and Ellen listened intently. Alex glanced toward Will, and gave an ecstatic smile before he continued talking.

Next to Will, Kiara fidgeted. She was pale, which made her freckles stand out. It made her look younger than the rest of them. Smaller. Will knew that wouldn't go down too well in front of the press. A scared, tiny female Grifball player? She wouldn't be helping the female player's image. Plus he could tell that she was mentally revisiting that interview with Stu. He had to admit, that montage that they played was a complete dick move. They saw her weaknesses, and someone obviously wanted to make them prevalent, otherwise they wouldn't have put in so much time editing that video. While Stu was practically an old friend to him, he had given her a pretty rough time. Kiara had managed to get through it, but that experience really was not helping the current situation.

Will nudged her with his elbow. "Nervous?"

She blinked, biting her lip. "There's a lot of people."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Just pretend they're all your friends or something." She looked out into the crowd, skeptical. "Make them like you."

"How do I do that? What if I get completely attacked like the other night?"

"Smile. Laugh. Be yourself," Will said, "or don't."

A hint of a smile played on her lips. "_Don't_ be myself? That's pretty much the opposite of everything I've heard. Ever."

Will leaned back in his chair and rested his hands behind his head. "Yeah, but people do it all the time in these situations. They shook you up in that last interview, but you mostly managed to get through it. Take it to the next level and get even stronger. Take Jackson, for example. He doesn't _seem_like a total dick in interviews, does he?"

Jackson rolled his eyes, but Kiara chuckled. She looked a lot less uncomfortable now, and there was some color returning to her face. "So when are we starting?"

Will looked at his watch. "Whenever Coach gets here… ah. Speak of the devil, and in two seconds we'll all go to hell."

"I don't think that's how that saying goes, Weissman," Coach said, brushing his suit with his hands. The low rumble that was the reporter's chatter escalated as he sat down. "Ready to start?"

"I was born ready, Coach."

"Don't say anything stupid now, Weissman. You too, Jackson." Jackson glared at him, but Coach glared back. "You know what I'm talking about. Now shut up. I'm talking."

The reporters hushed as Coach launched into a little speech about the inclusion of female players in Grifball, and Will immediately tuned out. It probably wasn't anything special, just positive words to help their image or something. Typical media crap. He scanned down the table. Jackson remained expressionless and Alex seemed to be equally bored, but the girls seemed to be listening intently. It didn't surprise him- it was their first time at a press conference, and they probably felt the need to look like good little face-smashing Grifball players. That had been his first press conference as well, but he was long over it now.

A question jolted him out of his daze and told him that Coach's spiel was over. A stick-thin woman with dyed blonde hair asked, "Ladies: what was your reaction to the announcement of female inclusion?"

Kiara was first to answer, to Will's surprise. She pushed her red hair behind her ear and leaned toward her microphone. "I immediately went to the gym to work out," she said, blushing. A collective chuckle went through the reporters. "I felt like I needed to prove myself."

Arika added to her answer. While she spoke, Will gave Kiara a nod of approval. She smiled nervously. "I actually felt the same way. My first instinct was to prepare myself. No matter what, I was going to get on a team."

When she was finished, Ellen spoke up. "My first reaction was mostly disbelief," she said, with a perfect smile on her face. "Then I was just happy that the men in charge had finally come to their senses. They've made the right decision letting women play Grifball, and they will not regret it."

The blonde reporter smiled politely. "Same question for the men. Mr. Cross, would you like to start?"

Alex pushed himself up in his seat. "Um, sure. I was kind of uncertain, to be honest. I knew that we were going to get a female player or two, sinse we lost Caleb and the guys. I was curious whether they would have the same level of talent."

Will suppressed a laugh. He wasn't just curious about talent levels; right after the announcement was made, Alex had called him wondering if the girls would be using the same locker room as them.

"Mr. Weissman, what was your reaction?"

Will leaned forward on his forearms. "Oops, my turn. Well, I thought it was about time that women were allowed to play Grifball. I mean, the aliens were allowed to, why shouldn't they be able to play? And it's not like they can't handle it. I've seen them in training. They don't even do girl pushups!" He heard Kiara giggle from next to him.

Jackson cleared his throat and began to speak. "I felt about the same as Will," he started, but Will knew it was a lie. "I was mostly concerned that they wouldn't be able to fill the shoes that our old players left behind, but I'm getting less worried each day." Coach nodded in approval. Will knew the truth. He'd slammed his phone into a wall when he'd heard the news, but it was understandable. Jackson was protective of his team. He was smart, too; he knew that with their lost teammates and the amendment to the rules that they would end up with some new people. He didn't want some rookie messing everything up.

A different reporter asked a question this time: "How are you working together as a team?"

"Well, it took a little getting used to," Ellen said. "The intensity is not even comparable as before. I think Kiara and Arika know what I'm talking about," she added, while the girls nodded. "But it's getting smoother and smoother each day."

"And what about relationships on the team?"

Coach leaned into the microphone. "I think Mr. Cross can tell you about that."

All eyes swiveled toward Alex, who turned deep red and shook his head, nonverbally answering the question as the press laughed.

Will leaned forward and added, "We already know that relationships on teams don't work out. Right, Jackson?" The press went wild as Jackson glared and mouthed death threats at Will. _This will probably end with some lovely fanfiction_, Will thought. He made a mental note to print some off and give it to Jackson, if he found it.

Another reporter spoke up. "Mr. Weissman- what are your thoughts on being benched?"

Will managed to keep his smile, although it felt like someone had plunged a knife in his stomach and twisted. He felt Coach's eyes on him, and chose his words carefully. "I think that it's a good opportunity for another person to prove themselves, if they can. I mean, I've already proved myself as a Runner. It doesn't mean I'll won't be training as hard as them or be any less part of the team. To be honest, I was disappointed, but it's just something you have to accept." Alex seemed a little distraught at his answer. His teammate knew him too well to believe that he was fine with being benched. But Alex didn't ask for it. He was given the place, and Will would have to just wait to see if he'd sink or swim.

He glanced over at Coach, and was surprised to see him looking apologetic, and Will realized that it might not have been his first choice to take him out. He probably had to make room for the women for some reason. Maybe the realization should have been comforting, but it just made Will even more uneasy.

* * *

By the time the conference was over, Will was having trouble concealing his growling stomach. He glanced over at Jackson, but upon seeing his expression, decided his teammate was probably not in the mood for a food run. He turned to Kiara, who was still blinking shyly at the cameras, and nudged her arm. "Hungry?"

"What?"

"Come on, rookie," he said, guiding her out of her chair by the arm. He wasn't really sure what he was doing, bringing one of the new chicks on one of his sacred food runs, but he might as well get to know his new teammates better. He ignored a skeptical look from Coach and a wink from Alex as he made his way through the sea of reporters, cameras, and screaming fans.

"Where are we going?" Kiara asked, confused.

Will flashed a grin at her. "Somewhere delicious," he told her, but she just looked more puzzled. Finally, they reached the street and Will waved down a taxi. They got in, and Will gave the address to a sleepy driver. Kiara stared out the window, distracted. Her eyes followed the lights of the city, and she seemed uneasy.

"What's the problem?" Will asked.

"Huh?" Kiara blushed. "Oh. I'm just overwhelmed, I guess. This is all pretty new to me."

He leaned back in the car seat, pressing his knees against the seat in front of him. "I guess I know what you mean. It kind of sucks at first. Interviews and training, blah blah blah. Just wait until the actual season starts up."

Kiara frowned. "I just wish that I could get some real playing time."

Will didn't know what to say. They were in the same boat. She had to sit out the first game while the other female players were making their debut. They were the benchwarmers. It was almost like they were forgotten, cast aside. Although his spirits were low, he tried to make a humorous approach. "Well, we just need a serious injury or death or something. Then we can get out in the arena," he said cheerfully. Upon seeing Kiara's shocked expression, he chuckled a little. "Kidding. Kind of. Let's admit, Alex does need a little head-bashing."

Kiara rolled her eyes. "Seriously. Did you see the way he was flirting with the others? It was extremely annoying. And what's the deal with Jackson?"

"Jackson?" Will chuckled. The guy seemed rough, he had to admit. Heck, when the two of them met, they weren't exactly friends either. "He's just… protective, I guess."

Kiara raised an eyebrow, causing the scar above to ripple a bit. "Protective? That's heartwarming."

Oh, Jackson. That was his problem, as Will had learned over the years. The guy built a giant wall around him, making him seem like a total dick to any outsiders. But on the inside… he was soft and cuddly. Well, maybe not cuddly. Or soft. "Well, picture this. Your team is falling apart, and you're trying to keep it together, when all of a sudden three chicks that may or may not even be good at Grifball strut in and take everyone's places. How would you feel?" Kiara thought about it and her expression softened, and the cab rolled to a stop. Will glanced out the window to see their destination right outside. He rummaged through his pocket until he found a wad of bills and gave it to the driver. "Thanks, cabbie. Keep the change."

"An ice cream shop?" Kiara observed, squinting up at the flickering neon sign. "I always thought you guys would go to much fancier places."

"Which is exactly the point." Will led her inside. His nose was immediately attacked with the rich, cold smell of ice cream. Five minutes later, they were seated at a booth right by the window so they could watch people walking by. Kiara ate her ice cream slowly and thoughtfully- Cherry Garcia. Not something Will would get, but he respected the choice.

"So is this supposed to be a date or something?" Kiara asked suspiciously.

Will almost choked on his Zanzibar chocolate. "What, is it wrong for a guy to not want to get ice cream by himself?"

Her face reddened. "Sorry, it's just that Coach said-"

"Who do you think I am- Alex?" He felt embarrassed. Maybe he made the wrong choice in bringing her here. Looking at it, it did seem kind of date-y. _Shiiit._If Coach found out about this, he was in for a nice, long talk. "I wanted to get to know one of my new teammates better, and you seemed the nicest. Ellen and Arika seem kind of scary, to be honest."

Kiara laughed. "Glad to know I'm not scary, then."

Will leaned back thoughtfully. She wasn't scary. She was the opposite. She was vulnerable. "Well, you're just shy. Your personality isn't completely overpowering."

She sighed. "Well, that doesn't seem to be helping in all these interviews."

"You seemed fine today," Will told her, licking his spoon.

"I was secretly terrified, though. My hands were shaking the whole time. I had to hide them under the table." She looked down, embarrassed.

Will looked at her. She didn't seem to be made for this kind of thing. The publicity was going to take a toll on her if she didn't learn how to deal with it. And she was his new teammate, after all. Teammates had to look out for each other. "What if I helped you out with that sort of thing? I could be your Haymitch."

"My what?"

"I could… train you, I guess, to be good at interviews," he explained, scraping his spoon against the sides of his paper ice cream dish to get the last bits of chocolate out. "So you're not so nervous, and so you can always give good answers." He looked up, grinning. "You could call me Coach!"

Kiara looked skeptical. "I'm not calling you 'Coach.'"

"Fine. I'll just have to find myself another grand title, then. But seriously, if you'd like help, don't be afraid to ask." Will licked the last bits of ice cream off his spoon, and saw that Kiara had finished hers as well. "Ready to go?" She nodded, and they got up to leave. "Oh, and can you do me a favor?"

She narrowed her eyes cautiously. "Depends on the favor."

Will laughed. He was beginning to like this rookie. She was cool. "Don't tell Jackson we came here, of all places. This is kind of a bro spot, and if he finds out you tainted it with your cooties…"

She punched his arm. "What is this, first grade?"

Will smiled and rubbed his arm. It would probably leave a pretty nice bruise for tomorrow morning. The girl could hit hard. Maybe she could survive it in this sport. But she would need to hit harder than that.


	8. Chapter 7: Live at Five

**(A/N) Hey guys, time for the first chapter of our second round of Grifball chapters, brought to you by the amazing TunelessLyric, the writer of Arika Myles, Rampancy's second Tank. Next chapter, as always, will go up next Friday, same Bat-time, same Bat-channel. But first, before I allow you to continue and begin reading this chapter, I have an announcement to make.**

**We are looking for more writers for this fic.**

**Now, before you all start screaming in delight, we're only looking for a few writers. Namely, a second Hybrid and Defender to take Rampancy's roster up to the full eight, then, maybe, if people are interested, one or two side characters, like an agent or a reporter, or something of the kind. So here's what you have to do, if you're interested. Head on over to our forum, it's under Red vs Blue in Misc, labelled The Freelancer Collaboration. Then, simply fill out an author application form, and then a Grifball application form. We'll announce those that we're accepting within a few weeks. Looking forward to reading through your applications.**

**And, as always, enjoy!**

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**Chapter Seven - Live At Five**

**Arika Myles**

**Written by TunelessLyric**

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_"Don't believe your own publicity. You can't; you'll start thinking you're better than you are."_ - Leif Garrett

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"Rampancy, get your butts in here," Coach barked.

Arika finished jogging down the hallway, nearly tripping Jackson by treading on his untied shoelace.

"Watch what you're doing," he snarled.

She pulled a mocking face after making sure he wasn't looking at her anymore. Arika slipped into the room behind Kiara and looked over the reserve Tank's red head. Coach had the flat screen TV above his desk on, the weekly sports news currently live streaming.

"Thanks, Dave," Stu Stuman chirped with a wide grin. He was sitting behind a desk and shuffled a sheaf of papers before beginning. "Well, sports fans of the galaxy, it's been a crazy week in Grifball. It started this Sunday with the Commissioner's announcement of women playing in the Intergalactic Grifball League. Many were thrilled to hear of this, chiefly the women placed on teams. That's right, _teams_. Pluralize that, folks!"

Arika heard a gasp, she thought it was from Ellen. Jackson silenced her with a thunderous glare. More than one team got women? No wonder the Captain was ready to murder someone.

"Team Majestic has a female Hybrid by the name of Sarah Greene." A graphic of a woman wearing a red training suit – Wetworks design with purple stripes, ugh – but holding her helmet. Sarah had pale grey eyes and long brown hair along with a knowing smile. "Greene is taking over from the infamous Harry Hawdon, now firmly in jail after three counts of second-degree murder."

Oh, so that was what had happened to him. No wonder the Majestic coach had tried to keep the news so quiet. Hawdon was one of the highest-ranked Hybrids in the IGL when he was finally convicted.

"Team Elimination have announced they were taking on two women in a recent press conference," Stuman went on. "Stepping into the reserve Runner position is Norma Ellis-" Blue Operator armour, grey trim, dark brown eyes and blonde hair for Norma – "with Tank being filled by Jessica Court."

The name rang a faint bell somewhere deep in Arika's mind. When her picture replaced that of Norma Ellis's, she realized why. Jessica had been in Arika's class for her entire school career. Jess had always been a plain girl with dirty blond hair and flat green eyes. Now she somehow managed to appear stunning in her red Stalker armour accented with cyan. Maybe it was just the action shot of her swinging her gravity hammer that did it.

"Team Hotshot, I'm sure you all remember was involved in a horrific accident late last season," Stuman went on.

Of course Arika remembered. It was one of the worst incidents in the history of the IGL. The team was in the semi-finals of the Galactic Championship, playing against Team Heretic. When Hotshot scored the first point of the game, the entire team was standing in the bomb's splash zone. Unfortunately for them, their respawn settings glitched horribly. There were body parts scattered through the entire arena floor. Four team members were killed, the reserves severely wounded in the blast. It was announced the next day that the manager disbanded the team.

"Well, Hotshot has been replaced by a team that I'm certain will have quite the following by their first match up. Filling the gap left by this tragedy is Team Siren, the League's first all-female Grifball team! For any of you interested, I had the chance to catch up with Siren after their first practice, the interview will follow my final announcement."

The entirety of Rampancy leaned closer to the television. This was it. They were finally going to be announced to the galaxy. This would be the major part of their pre-season. Whatever Stuman had to say would affect how fans viewed their team.

"Last, but in no way least is the big news from a Team you all know and love or love to hate, I'm talking about Team Rampancy," Stuman crowed. "The team that finished in sixth place last season lost three important team members in the off-season. One amazing Defender in Caleb Godwin to a substance abuse-related ban; Brian Alders, the main Tank, to conviction following an out of control bar fight and Anthony Hopkins, the reserve Tank to a horrific accident in the arena.

"Stepping into their shoes are three talented ladies."

Arika felt her breath catch in her chest. She was replacing _Alders_? That guy was the face of Grifball for seasons. That man had it all. He was pretty much the reason Rampancy made it to sixth place in the League last season. Until his drinking problem got a little too out of hand one night and he killed another patron in a bar brawl. Well, the man wasn't killed in the actual altercation, he'd limped away and died of his injuries later. But it was enough to send Alders up the river and he got hit with a lifetime ban. She shook the thoughts away and listened to what was happening on the screen.

There was a picture of Kiara, Ellen and Arika beside Stuman's head. He was going on about which position each of them played. The main Tank felt a thrill of excitement as her name was announced. She smiled, knowing her father and younger brother were watching at home right now. She wished she could call them right now and tell them how happy she was. Her family would tell her how proud of her they were. But they were on the other side of the galaxy and comms that far out would cost her an arm and a leg per second.

"Well, there you are, your female Grifball players of this season. After the break, we'll catch up with Team Siren an-"

Coach punched the off button on the remote. He swivelled in his chair. "You don't need to watch that. They didn't say anything about their training schedule, what they're doing to prepare for the big time or anything important," he said. "But I thought you should get used to seeing your faces up there on the screen."

Arika nodded, knowing that last was definitely directed at her and her female teammates. Jackson huffed with exasperation.

"Coach, it's only the television," drawled Jackson. "Give it a rest."

"Oh, my _god_!" Arika burst out. "Jackson, I don't _care_ how many times you've been on the god damned television, for some of us, that was a pretty big moment. Can you keep your swollen head out of it for a single second?"

There was a long silence. Coach switched his disapproving gaze between the Captain and Tank equally. She half-wished she could take the outburst out, the other half felt better now that she had told him off.

"Are you going to let her talk to me like that?" Jackson asked plaintively. "What about gender equality. If I'd said that, you would have lectured me!"

"Arika, don't speak like that to your Captain," Coach said tersely. "Jackson, don't speak like that to your team and remember that it's my place to punish, not yours." He cleared his throat.

Alex sniggered quietly. Arika felt her ears burn with shame. How could she have said that?

"I have something else to tell you all," Anderson continued. "You will be playing Siren in the first friendly game of the pre-season. I trust you all know how important it is for Rampancy to win in the pre-season. That being said, you need to put your backs into training. From now until the game, you will eat, sleep and breathe Grifball. You are expected to put in whatever hours you must at the gym and come every day ready to scrimmage and learn. You may go."

At Coach's dismissal, Arika turned and filed out with the six others. She let out a tense breath. Was he going to be this intense before every game? Not that she blamed him in any way, shape or form. Rampancy needed to focus if it was going to win at all this season, never mind a friendly game with some Barbie girls.


	9. Chapter 8: The Chairman

**(A/N) Hey guys, once again, sorry about the delay. Have been hard at work this week, trying to get as much money together before college starts and I soon go back to the world of unemployment, so it's cutting into my time a little, but, no fear, I'll keep updating as faithfully and often as I can, just, sometimes, things might go up a little late, and I'm sorry about that. But I'll do my best to make sure everything's on time, just bear with me.**

**This chapter isn't a particularly long one, but begins to explore some of the behind-the-scenes going on within Team Rampancy, because not everything is beating people up with gravity hammers. We're still looking for some more writers, and will be until the end of the month, so please, if you're interested, apply! Would also like to thank everyone who's taken the time to review, it really means a lot to us!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Eight – The Chairman**

**Coach Anderson**

**Written by NicKenny**

* * *

"_People ask the difference between a leader and a boss. The leader leads, and the boss drives." _- Theodore Roosevelt

* * *

Ryan Anderson sat impatiently in the waiting room of the one man for whom he'd be prepared to wait for. Namely, the multi-billionaire Brian Sadler, owner of the universal fuel giant the Sadler Corporation, along with being the Chairman of Rampancy's Board of Directors, who was, for all extents and purposes, Anderson's boss, as much as he hated to admit it.

After all, Sadler owned a fifty-one per cent stake in the team, making him the majority shareholder, which meant that Anderson now had to spend what he viewed as far too long waiting outside Sadler's office, proof of Rampancy's progress in a ring binder underneath his arm, a flash drive in his pocket, and some stills from their latest publicity shoot, displaying new Rampancy merchandise, unsurprisingly directed towards Rampancy's female fan base.

Across the room, the secretary glanced over at him, her facial expression betraying the boredom she felt at the tediousness of her job. "Ryan Anderson?" she asked, and the coach nodded affirmatively.

"Mr Sadler will see you now," she continued, gesturing to the door next to him. Anderson barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. The same show had been presented the last half-dozen times that he had been up here. He would be forced to wait for about half an hour outside of Sadler's office, no one going in or out in that space of time, before he was finally called through. No doubt Sadler thought it was a display of power, showing Anderson who was the boss here, but all that it told Anderson was that the billionaire actually feared him, to some extent at least, and, even more evidently, that he was a self-absorbed idiot.

Perhaps he was being harsh on the man, but ever since Anderson had been introduced to him, he couldn't help the feeling of dislike that had sprung up almost instantly. Walking into the room, and seeing Sadler sitting at his desk, as cool as a cucumber, his blonde hair carelessly swept, his fake tan and whitened teeth sparkling in the light, the urge to roll his eyes emerged one once more, but Anderson managed to keep a tight grip on his self-control.

"Ah, Mr Anderson!" the billionaire exclaimed, as though he had only just realised that the coach had just entered the room, and hadn't been notified of his arrival beforehand. "A pleasure to see you once again! I assume you have good news for me, about our players? Tell me, how are the girl's shaping up?"

Anderson walked up and forced a smile, standing uncomfortably in the centre of the room. "As well as I could have hoped for, to tell the truth. Their overall fitness has improved in leaps and bounds, and they're showing a dedication to training that is so rarely seen. Obviously, they had only played in the amateur leagues before, and it's going to take them a while before they can get to the professional level, but I have every confidence in them."

Sadler gave a tight-lipped smile in return, and gestured for Anderson to pass over the ring binder, flash drive and stills, flicking through the pages with apparent interest before plugging the flash drive into his computer, his smile becoming a little more genuine as videos of the team training popped up, displaying Arika and Will circling each other, plasma swords in hand, then flicking over to another video, as Jackson and Alex displayed a perfect launch, then to Arika once more, taking down both Kiara and Will with a gravity hammer, then to Ellen, dodging Kiara's sword only to fall to the next blow.

Anderson couldn't help but notice that, as Sadler flicked through the dozens of videos on the drive, that the billionaire spent far more time on the videos depicting the girls than those containing Will, Alex and Jackson. _'Not all that surprising, then, that the Commissioner didn't have much of a problem forcing three players onto my team. Sadler seems to be _pretty _keen on female players,' _he thought wryly, his lip curled in disdain, although Sadler was too focused on the videos in front of him to notice.

Eventually, Sadler tired of the videos, and Anderson passed the stills over to him, shaking his head slightly. He had always been more than a bit distrustful of the whole marketing side of Grifball, the photo-shoots and television advertisements always getting in the way of the sport, of training and planning for the next match.

The pictures displayed members of the team, wearing or holding various Rampancy merchandise, such as imitation helmets, t-shirts stylised to look like the armour of the individual players, the famous "Property of Team Rampancy" t-shirts, Rampancy branded jeans, autographed photos, scarves, flags, cups, wallets and all manner of other assorted items.

Anderson knew that all of these things were important for the team's revenue, and he knew that, without the sales of this merchandise, they wouldn't have money to spend on new players, on improving the facilities, on organising friendlies and paying for the cost of travel to and from games, not to mention both the players' and his own wages. All the same, this part of the sport always had a gritty and somewhat unclean aspect for him, and he was never totally at ease with it. He'd much rather be back at the training grounds, yelling at his squad, driving them forward.

Despite his cool, and non-committal words to the owner, Anderson was actually incredibly optimistic about the upcoming season. The girls had really come on in leaps and bounds, and their fitness almost rivalled his three more established players. Their skill levels were still a good deal below the others, but they had made great improvements since they had joined, and Coach Anderson was confident that they'd be ready, once the season started.

Alex and Will were getting along well with the three girls, and if it hadn't been for Jackson, the coach would have had very little to complain about. As it was, he was more than a little disappointed with Jackson's attitude. In fact, a little disappointed was the understatement of the century. Anderson had given his all to Jackson, taking him from being a decent player to one of the top-players in the league, and he would have thought that Jackson would have had some faith in him. Anderson knew that Jackson was a formidable player, and a fantastic captain, but his sexist beliefs were clouding his judgement on the matter, and sooner or later it would bite him in the ass.

The only problem, however, was that it may just cost Rampancy dearly as well.

But the start of the season was still a long way off, yet, and hopefully the team could use the upcoming friendlies to bond together and prove themselves. Maybe after a few wins, Jackson would come to his sense, but the coach had a feeling that it wouldn't be so easy.

Nothing ever is.

"Do you think they'll be ready for the Siren game?" Sadler asked absentmindedly, still flicking through the stills.

Coach shook himself mentally, dragging himself away from thoughts of his problematic team captain. "I know they will. I've been pushing them as hard as I can, and they're responding to it. We've still got one or two minor problems to solve, but I'm confident that we'll be ready for the Sirens, and we'll win."

He paused for a moment, unsure of whether or not Sadler was looking for a more in depth report, then asked "Will you be coming to watch?"

Sadler glanced up, and slowly nodded. "Yes, I believe I will. After all, your girls have got a lot to prove, and it should make for an…interesting game. This season will be a good one, I feel. A lot of changes makes for a lot of interest, and that means more money for us. Which, of course, is always a good thing. Can I ask, just as a rough estimation, where you think Rampancy will finish this year?"

Coach paused for a moment, before shrugging. "It's hard to say, given all the changes, but I'm expecting to finish in the top quarter, and if we can add one or two more players to the squad before the season starts…then maybe we can improve a place or two on last year. As you said, it's going to be an interesting season."

Sadler nodded slowly, leaning back in his chair. "I suppose you'll want some more money, for these new players?" he asked quietly, and Anderson nodded, sighing inside. The billionaire toyed with his tie for a moment, before looking back up at the coach.

"Then beat Siren. After that, then I'll be more open to talks on the matter. If you lose, then I'm not sure whether it would be worth investing more money into a team that can't perform as it is. If you win…then I'll see what I can do. I'm sure you already have a few players in mind?" he replied, his eyes cold and distant.

"A few," Anderson admitted. "I understand. We'll see you at the game, so. And I'll have my list in hand, ready to hand it to you the second the match ends."

"Ok then," Sadler replied, smiling grimly and nodding to the door, dismissing the coach. "I guess we can call this meeting adjourned. Till next time, Mr Anderson."

The coach nodded, retrieved his binder, flash drive and photographs and left the room, nodding to the secretary on the way out. As he made his way down to his car, he couldn't help but wonder if Rampancy had what it takes to beat Siren? He knew that Siren were comprised fully of girls from the amateur leagues, and they hadn't had long to get familiar with one another, but he also knew that it would look bad on the Commissioner if the only fully-female team performed badly next season, so he felt it reasonable to suspect that they had received some of the best female players the amateurs had to offer.

The Sirens' identities hadn't yet been made public, but there had been a lot of speculation over the internet and on the various Grifball channels as to whom they comprised of, and the coach had made a list of his own, noting the absences of several key players in the line-ups of some of the amateur league teams in their friendly games, and he had made some calls to follow up on these hunches. Even in the amateur leagues, Ryan Anderson had connections. A lot of people owed their first breaks to him, or had played with him, or, indeed, against him. He had a lot of friends in this industry.

Still, he couldn't be certain that he was right, so Rampancy would have to prepare for every possible eventuality. But he knew that if any team could do it, could overcome the odds in front of them, then it was his team.

After all, he was their coach. If he didn't believe in them, then who else would?


	10. Chapter 9: Talk Show

**(A/N) Hey guys, can't believe this is going up so late and I'd like to apologise about that, just been so busy that I've lost track of time lately. As a result, this is only going up now, and the Phase One: Genesis chapter that was due to go up today will instead go up tomorrow. Apologies to all, I take full responsibility. Now, get ready for a big chapter, from the smallest of our Grifball ladies. Miss Kiara Thomas, step forward!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Nine – Talk Show**

**Kiara Thomas**

**Written by Minaethiel**

* * *

_"What we say is important… for in most cases the mouth speaks what the heart is full of."_ **- **Jim Beggs

* * *

I was scared of many things in life. Needles, zombies, and relationships to be more specific. However the thing I feared most, even more than relationships, was public speaking. I couldn't exactly pinpoint why I feared speaking so much. Perhaps it was being the center of attention, or maybe it was the idea of being judged by so many people at once. Maybe it went down to just that unnerving feeling of having so many eyes on you. Whatever the cause was, it didn't matter much as I smoothed over my knitted blue dress and black leggings.

Normally I wouldn't bother wearing such nice clothes unless I was going out- after all, with all the publicity the female players were getting, I was kind of terrified of being stalked by the press- but today was, well, a special occasion. Occasionally I could hear the clapping of the crowd over the booming voice of the host outside, and when I did I could only wring my hands in nervousness. There were a LOT of people out there.

What if I said something stupid? What if I made a fool of myself? If they tried asking about Rampancy's strategies going into the season, what was I supposed to say? Should I tease the crowd or exude a confident "you'll see?" I sighed shakily, and jumped as I felt a hand on my shoulder. A short, feminine laugh followed, and I turned to see Ellen giving me a sympathetic smile.

"Nervous, Kiara?"

"You have no idea… I'm not exactly great at speeches."

I felt a frown crease my face.

"Hey, don't worry, we're not going to be lecturing like at a college or anything. We're just going to answer a few questions. Just be yourself."

She gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder and moved away to discuss something with Will, who was looking quite classy in a tux and tie. I resumed wringing my hands, stopping only when the host of the show, Stu Stuman, announced what I was dreading.

"Next up on Stu's Corner, we'll be talking to Rampancy runner, Will Weissman, and two of the first women on Rampancy: Kiara Thomas, and Ellen Thompson. And no, those two are NOT related."

The crowd laughed, and I couldn't help but crack a smile, remembering that Ellen had joked about our similar names when we had met.

"Hey! Kiara!"

Turning, I could see Will beckoning me over to wear he and Ellen were standing. _Silver linings, Kiara, this situation could have been a LOT worse. Coach could have sent just you here._ Arika, Alex, and Jackson had been chosen to stay because Coach had wanted to run over some Tank and Runner strategies with them. Since Will and I were on the bench for the first game, and Ellen was a Defender, Coach had decided to send the three of us to appear on Stu's show. Will looked the both of us over and smirked lazily.

"Looking good, ladies, almost as good as me. Anyways, just some basic ground rules for this interview. Don't give away any strategies, and don't bring up how the first training session ended. The fans want a strong team, and I'm sure the other coaches will want to see some weaknesses. Let's try not to give that to them, or else Coach will have us running laps until we drop. Oh, and Stu finds it funny to make his guests squirm a little. Just be cool, and don't act like he bothers you, even if all you want to do is punch him."

I cracked a nervous grin.

"Are you the voice of experience for that, Will?"

"Maybe. Who wants to know?"

He was trying hard to keep up a serious façade, but I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Otherwise, just be yourselves you two."

_Be yourself._ I was a shy individual. Talking to large crowds was a scary thing to do, and with this appearance I was being asked to be the opposite of myself. Sighing, I looked towards where a coordinator was beckoning us. Ellen gave us all an excited grin.

"Well, this is it!"

Just as she finished, Stu's voice started up again.

"And welcome back to Stu's Corner! Now I'd like to introduce my three special guests for today. Everyone give a warm welcome to Will Weissman, Ellen Thompson, and Kiara Thomas of Team Rampancy!"

A round of applause started, and the coordinator ushered us out. Will, ever used to attention, smiled and waved at the crowd like this was all one big party. Ellen seemed more reserved, but also did her part of greeting the crowd, and me… well, I tried my best to be that ideal bubbly and outgoing person that fans love, but I found myself looking everywhere but the crowd. Cheeks going red with embarrassment, I woodenly shook Stu's hand and settled into one of the posh chairs he offered for the three of us. Ellen was on my right, and Will chose the chair on the left, closer to Stu and his little set up. The clapping eventually faded off, and Stu looked at each of us.

"Welcome to Stu's Corner, you three. The scene outside of the Rampancy training center was quite a spectacle when you three ladies arrived. Have you been as well received by the fans as you have by the press?"

Ellen looked at me, a silent question on whether or not we had been gifted with a courteous entrance into the world of pro Grifball. The face of Ethan, our first naysayer, popped into my head, and I shrugged silently in response. Ellen turned to Stu.

"I find that most of the fans are willing to give us a shot. Obviously not everyone believes that, but us Rampancy ladies can't wait to prove to them that we're just as good as the men."

Ellen's voice held so much confidence and belief that I couldn't help but smirk in agreement. After our mock matches a few days ago, I thought we were even beginning to get Jackson to warm up to us a little. If we could impress him, we could impress anybody probably. The audience sure seemed to be impressed, and gave her a short burst of clapping. Stu then turned his attention to Will.

"Mr. Weissman, how are the women performing compared to yourself, Mr. Rothe, and Mr. Cross in training?

Will looked us over and seemed to appraise us. I met his eyes squarely, partly because I was confident in my abilities, and partly because he was something to focus on besides the crowd. After just a moment, Will gave us a lazy smile and turned back to Stu.

"Obviously they're going to need a bit of practice to make it up to "pro" standards, but they've proven to be gifted players during training, and we're happy to have them on the team."

I smiled proudly, and Ellen looked just as happy to hear Will vouching for us. An image of the crowds cheering for us popped into my head, and I found myself sitting up a little straighter. Stu caught sight of this movement and turned to me, with what was supposed to be a charming smile.

"You've been quiet, Miss Thomas. Care to tell everyone where you got that scar above your eye?"

My hand absentmindedly went to my right eye, and my smile got a little bit bigger.

"You could say that this was my first Grifball injury. Do you want the long version, or the short version?"

"Preferably the version that doesn't interfere with commercial times."

I smiled tightly, trying to refrain from rolling my eyes. It was all time and money to commentators. Some things never change. I cleared my throat, and began to speak.

"Well, let's see here… I remember it like it happened yesterday…"

* * *

_"Hey, Kiara! Clear the way for me!"_

_The commanding voice of my older brother, Brian, broke into my focus, and I turned to see where he was. His two friends, Kyle and Felix, were advancing on him with makeshift gravity hammers. Well, if you could count a golfing driver as a gravity hammer. The sticks we were using as swords were taped to their belts for easy access. Re-taping my "sword" to my belt, I grabbed my driver from the harness on my back and charged forward. Two on two Grifball was not an ideal number for a game, but no one else in the neighborhood was as interested as we were in playing. All four of us shared the dream of getting good enough to make our own pro team. We had even already come up with a team name: Whirlwind._

_My brother Brian had already pretty much claimed the title of team captain and runner. Felix and I were more of the 'tank' type of people, and Kyle enjoyed playing Defender or back up runner. On this particular day, we were pumped for the championship game between Maverick and Overcharge._

_I slammed my "hammer" down near them, and called out, "Respawn!"_

_Kyle and Felix turned around and immediately ran back to the other side of the yard, and I veered to run in front of Brian to help clear his path._

_"Don't worry, Brian, I'll protect you!"_

_"Good to know that my baby sister has my back, Kiara."_

_"I'm not a baby! I'm eight years old, Brian!"_

_"Whatever you say, Ki."_

_He laughed, and a frown creased my face. I was no baby! As Kyle and Felix finished counting out the 'respawn' time, I put my club back into the harness and un-taped my 'sword.' Both boys rushed towards me, and I could hear Brian behind me._

_"Kiara…"_

_Ignoring him, I ran towards Kyle and Felix, who were both giving me confused looks. However their confusion didn't last long, and both rushed me. Kyle was the first to reach me, and he began to swing his club towards the ground. Thinking I could make the distance and dodge the blow, I leapt towards him with my sword only to feel an immense pain on the back of my head, and see the world go black._

_Honestly, when I woke up, I didn't remember at all what had happened. All I knew was that my head hurt, my face hurt, and my brother looked really relieved. My dad was also present and he looked more worried than anything._

_"Kiara? Sweetie? How do you feel? What hurts?"_

_"My-my head hurts, and my eye feels puffy."_

_"Let me see…"_

_And that was how I ended up visiting the emergency room. However, as we left, me toting new stitches above my eye and holding an ice pack to my head, I couldn't help but give a toothy grin to my brother and dad._

_"My first Grifball injury!"_

* * *

By the time I finished telling the story it was getting hard to control my laughter. Being injured wasn't funny at the time that it happened, but as the years went on and my career in Grifball took off, I realized that what had happened was generally minor compared to most injuries. Well that and the fact that I had been one stupid kid. The audience had started laughing too, and I felt just a bit of my fear begin to melt away. Will and Ellen were smiling in amusement, but Stu seemed more annoyed than anything. I guess I had taken too long. Oh well, at least the audience enjoyed the story.

"That was an entertaining account of your accident, Miss Thomas. However we've also dug up some injuries from your time in the amateur league. Your worst one was a near arm amputation after the respawn system failed during one of your games, am I correct?"

I flinched involuntarily, remembering that day well. My opponent and I had been locked in a sword fight, and one of his teammates had nearly lopped my arm off. Luckily he had only gone for a stab instead of a full-on slash, otherwise I probably wouldn't have been given the chance to play for Rampancy. Nonetheless, it took a lot of physical therapy to recover and get back into the game. Although injuries like mine were fairly common when the respawn system failed. I couldn't see a motive for him bringing up injuries.

"Fans are also concerned about your win record with… Flashpoint I believe your team was. A half and half record, and that was only the amateur leagues. What do you bring to the table for Rampancy, Miss Thomas?"

I could feel the tension in the room rise a bit. Happy time was over it appeared. However, I wondered if giving away my abilities would give opposing teams an advantage. We were due to play Team Siren soon, the all-female team replacing Hotshot, and no doubt they were going to create a lot of buzz. All of them were wildcards pretty much; we didn't even know their identities.

With a careful tone, I replied, "You'll see what I can do once I get on the court."

Stu smirked, and somehow I could imagine that things were about to get messy.

"We could see what you might bring to Rampancy right now."

The room darkened slightly to allow the audience to see what he would be playing. Clips of my past games appeared, and each one included me fumbling in some way. A botched gravity hammer swing, team kills, and a couple of missed sword swings that even a newbie to Grifball would take advantage of. As each clip played, I could feel my face get redder and redder from embarrassment, and an unsatisfied grumbling could be heard from the crowd. Ellen gave me a sympathetic look, and Will actually looked irritated. His sarcastic voice rang out over the mutterings of the crowd and the sounds of the clips.

"Geez, Stu, I didn't know that Kiara was born a professional Grifball player. I could swear that people always had to be rookies first…"

I took a deep, steadying breath and placed a hand on his shoulder before standing up. Will looked confused, but refrained from making any more comments.

"I know that I've made rookie mistakes and bad plays in my time as a Grifball player, but all of us were there at one time. I've gotten better as the seasons have passed, and under the guidance of Rampancy and Coach Anderson, I swear I'll be a Rampancy player the fans can be proud of. Just give me a chance- hell, give all of the new women a chance- to show that we can keep up with the men," my voice grew a bit harder as I continued, "but don't think that a few naysayers are going to make us go away. We're here to stay whether you like it or not, and that's a promise."

I immediately sat down, saying nothing else. For a second there was silence, until Stu spoke up.

"Strong words from Kiara Thomas of Rampancy! We'll see if Grifball's newest members live up to that promise. Tomorrow, Rampancy will be facing off against the new all-female team in the league by the name of the Sirens. Miss Thompson, how are you feeling about your first friendly match in the big leagues?"

Ellen smoothed over the skirt of the white dress she had decided to wear and adjusted her position into something more comfortable before she replied.

"I'm excited! We haven't run into any other women yet, and I'm looking forward to seeing what other talented people the league pulled from the amateur level. Plus all of our practices are going to finally be put into play. I've been itching to get out on the court."

"Do you believe it will hurt Rampancy's moral if the team gets beat by the Sirens?"

Ellen seemed to consider this for a moment before smiling.

"It might bruise some egos, but nothing more serious than that."

"Well here's to hoping that egos will recover. Now here is a final question for all of you. All of you have mentioned Rampancy this and Rampancy that, but what does it truly mean to be a member of Team Rampancy?"

While Ellen and I contemplated our answers, Will smirked.

"It means being able to successfully pull off a spawn bonk at all times. No, but seriously, it takes heart. Especially when it comes to sitting through Anderson's speeches. Just kidding Coach! You know I love your speeches!"

The crowd laughed at this and applauded a bit, much to Will's delight. Of course neither Ellen nor myself could hold back a chuckle at the shenanigans of our free-spirited teammate. Ellen looked squarely at the crowd as she delivered her response.

"To me, being on Rampancy means that I've been chosen to give my best effort every chance I can to make the team a top competitor this season, and all of the seasons to come."

That was definitely true. Rampancy had lost three players last season to both unfortunate accidents, and just plain player stupidity. We had some big shoes to fill, and it would take our very best effort to fill them in. I thought for just a minute more and spoke up softly, but loud enough for the crowd to hear me.

"Being apart of Rampancy means never giving into the odds, and always being ready to prove doubters wrong. It means having the strength to continue even if you feel like you can't, and it means that, like Ellen said, we're always ready to give our best effort."

I offered a high-five to Will and Ellen, and they both obliged, smiling. The crowd was clapping with approval at our answers, and I couldn't help but notice how this interview hadn't turned out so bad. Getting knocked for some past mistakes had been irritating, but beyond that I felt hopeful that my first season as a pro player was going to go well. Hopefully Brian, Kyle, and Felix would support me as fully in the pro league as they had done in the amateur league.

"Well that about wraps it up today for Stu's Corner. We'll see if Rampancy can give us the show they preach when they take on the Sirens in the first friendly game of the season. Let's hear it for Team Rampancy!"

The clapping of the crowd grew calamitous, and we were ushered off stage as Stu gave a few final words. I turned to the other two, smiling.

"That actually didn't go half as bad as I thought it would!"


	11. Chapter 10: A Bit of Recon

**(A/N) Hey all, time for your latest Grifball dose, and here comes the latest chapter in the Grifball: Running Rampant saga. Hope you all enjoy this, because I sure did. Coming to you from the mind of our incredible ParabolaOfMystery, this chapter reveals to us a little more about this…Team Siren, and exactly what our guys and girls are going up against.**

**Once more, I'd like to inform you all that we're still looking for writers for this fic, but applications only remain open for another week, and at that point it will be closed, probably for quite a while. So, if you're interested, please get on to our forum and apply. If not, I'm sorry for forcing you to read this notice yet again.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Ten – A Bit of Recon**

**Will Weissman**

**Written by ParabolaOfMystery**

* * *

"_It is only the enlightened ruler and the wise general who will use the highest intelligence of the army for the purposes of spying, and thereby they achieve great results." _- Sun Tzu

* * *

"There's been a change of plans," Coach said, twirling a pen between his fingers. Will and Jackson had been called to his office after practice. Ah, the memories of that office. Most of them were kind of bad, of course - Coach ratting them out for doing stupid stuff, mostly. Will looked around distractedly, hoping that Coach wouldn't yell at them for something. He wasn't aware that he did anything wrong during practice today, but then again, he wasn't aware of a lot of things. The two of them sat there, squirming to go and change out of their sweaty armor. "You're not training tonight after all."

"What?" Jackson said, leaning forward in his chair, confused. With their friendly game coming up soon against the Sirens, they'd need to be at their peak, even though Will knew that Jackson was more than confident that they could overcome a bunch of women.

Will frowned. "Why not? I thought we were going all out, ever since the league threw us a curveball by giving us Siren instead of Hotshot."

He knew the Hotshot guys pretty well. Went out for bevs a couple times after games. Will was pretty sure one of them had video of him singing very bad karaoke to 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' on their phone, but he liked to keep that out of thought.

But Siren, on the other hand, where an enigma. Unknown and untested, and no team ever liked going up against the unknown. Surprises tended to happen, and few players enjoyed being surprised.

Coach ran a hand through his hair awkwardly, like he wasn't sure how to break the bad news. Eventually he decided to just spit it out. "I need you on recon tonight. Sometimes certain things have to take priority over training, every once in a while."

He rummaged through the files on his desk hastily, looking pleased when he found what he was looking for. "Siren are a brand-new team. Fresh. I've got almost all their files, except for two. They're trying to keep secretive on their players' stats or whatever, and it was hard enough to get four out of the six, but you guys can find out about the other two soon enough."

"But Coach," Jackson mumbled, growing increasingly irritated while flipping through the files, "These are all…"

"Women, yes, I know," Coach said. He crossed his arms and swivelled side to side in his chair, his eyes following Jackson. "And they don't have _cooties, _Rothe, so you shouldn't be afraid of them."

Will smirked, picking up the profiles and rifling through them. The photos included in each one weren't half bad. "Don't let Alex find out about this."

Coach rolled his eyes. "Anyway," he continued, "They have an open training session tonight. Rothe, Weissman, you're both going. Pretend to be fans or something, I don't care."

Jackson raised his eyebrows and frowned. His face was growing red. Will looked back and forth between the captain and the coach, wondering if either of them was going to snap. It had happened before after a particularly ugly game last season. His eardrums still tingled sometimes at the memory of it. Will looked around for the quickest exit in case an argument did happen. He didn't want to be in the blast area of that. "Seriously?"

Coach looked at him sternly. "Of course. We need to be prepared for our match against them."

"Well, I don't think we need to be prepared for a bunch of _women_," Jackson sneered. Will cringed at his tone. As much as he liked the guy, he was _harsh._"I've got much better ways to spend my time than watching a bunch of amateurs doing girly laps around a gym."

Will laughed. "Like you have anything to do tonight," he mumbled. "And what the hell is a girly lap?"

"What if I have a date or something?" Jackson added snippily, ignoring Will. "Sorry Coach, seems like I'm busy. You'll have to make Alex go or something instead."

Coach glared at Jackson, clearly starting to lose his patience. "I can't think of the first girl that would be going out with you," he told him as Will sniggered. "And you really think I would get a quality report out of _Alex_? He'd be watching women work out. It's practically his dream." He pointed at Will, who immediately leaned back to try and create distance between them. It was mostly instinct. Coach could be a scary dude. "Rothe, you've got a date with Weissman and the Sirens tonight. Go shower, you two. And _try _to behave yourselves."

* * *

Will was at Jackson's place, sitting cross legged on his bed while he waited for Jackson to get out of the shower. He took _forever_, so Will found it to be the perfect time to look through the profiles Coach gave them. There was a lot of writing and numbers on each page, so Will scanned though each one as quickly as possible.

Their captain was a tall blonde Tank named Sarah Walker. Her stats didn't really stand out to him; they seemed about equal to Ellen's, so the Siren probably wouldn't be too hard to handle. Based on her stats, Will guessed she earned the captain title based on her leadership skills rather than her talent on the floor, which he had no problem with.

Next was one of their Hybrids, Kitty Michaels, a petite little blonde that didn't look like much. Then again, Kiara didn't look like much either, but both of them could easily beat a number of professional players. The Hybrid's kill count was surprisingly high, for the amateur leagues. They would probably have to watch out for her.

The next profile he turned through looked seemed to be one of their substitutes, Ella Ruz. Based on her kill count and scoring as a Hybrid, he concluded that any one of his teammates could outdo her in any position. She didn't even look tough- her included photo showed a small, thin girl with short brown hair and shy eyes. She'd probably be on the bench during the upcoming game.

Will couldn't decide if the last player was going to be a sub or not. The picture showed Beth Rhine, another Hybrid, to be a scary-looking player with short black hair that was shaved on one side, and eyes that gave the impression that she wanted to filet you with an energy sword. Her stats were about the same as their captains, but without the missing files, Will didn't know if they would have to play against her or not.

Just then, the bathroom door opened, letting steam pour out toward the ceiling. Jackson was rubbing a towel over his head, his t-shirt sticking wetly to his neck, which he didn't dry properly. He stared at Will, with a mixture of curiosity and revulsion on his face. "What the hell are you wearing?"

Will looked down at his shirt, which he bought on the way there. He'd almost forgotten he'd worn it. "Oh yeah. I thought I'd look the part, sinse I assumed mostly fans would show up to a practice sesh. I brought one for you too, sinse you know, pink is totally your color-"

"Absolutely not," Jackson said, not even bothering to look up.

Will smiled and stretched his t-shirt in front of him so he could read the front. "But it says 'I HEART SIRENS' on it!"

"Still not seeing the appeal," Jackson said. He leaned against the doorframe. He clearly wanted to get this over with. "Ready to go?"

Will motioned to the player files scattered around the bed. "Don't you want to look?"

"Don't need to," Jackson grumbled.

* * *

The Siren's training gym was packed full of members of the press and screaming fans, most of them female, most wearing pink. Will got a few compliments on his shirt and a few numbers to go with them, while Jackson scowled. They managed to find an open spot on the bleachers that had been set up, right next to two Grifball fangirls who had dyed their hair pink, the Siren's color.

"Why don't we get fangirls like these?" Will mumbled disappointedly, while Jackson rolled his eyes and mumbled something like _feminists_. The captain was sitting rigidly with his arms crossed. Anyone who looked at him would be able to tell that he really, _really_ didn't want to be there. For a second Will thought about telling him to lighten up, but then decided that it would only make Jackson even grumpier.

The Sirens were currently in the warm-up stage of their training, without armor. He was able to pick out Sarah Walker, the captain, the petite Hybrid Kitty Michaels (who Will decided was probably Alex's type), the shy substitute Ella Ruz, and the scary Beth Rhine. Those were the four he knew, all in various stages of their warm up. He scanned the gym for either of the mystery players, and his eyes rested on one doing pull ups like they were a walk in the park. She was amazingly muscled, Asian, and… _young._

Will nudged one of the fangirls next to him. She turned; she had _Go Sirens!_ Painted on her left cheek. "Do you know who that is?" He asked, pointing.

She gasped like he had just murdered someone right in front of her. "How can you _not _know?!" The girl elbowed her friend. "Kayla, he doesn't know who _she _is!" Her friend also gasped.

"That's _Mikasa Ackerman_," her friend said with so much drama it seemed as if the players name had been italicized.

"Mikasa Ackerman," Will muttered. The name was ringing a bell; he'd probably heard it on the news before, but he couldn't come up with anything.

"She's only _nineteen years old_," the first fangirl added. Nineteen? Even for the amateur leagues that was pretty young. Professional, almost unheard of. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jackson (who had been pretending not to pay attention) raise his eyebrows.

"What does she play?" Will asked, staring at the player. The nineteen-year-old seemed quiet, always on the edge of the rest of her team, yet seeming to work the hardest. Right now they were doing push-ups, and Mikasa seemed to be doing two for every one of the others. Still, her warm-up didn't exactly reflect her playing ability.

"She's officially listed as Hybrid," Jackson finished. His face turned scarlet when Will turned to him, surprised. "What? I read an article about her. Skimmed."

"Wow, Jacky, I wasn't aware that you were literate." Jackson punched him in the arm. "Is she good?" Jackson shrugged, which could mean a number of things. She was good. She wasn't good. She was meh. She actually didn't play at all; she was their mascot and was part mermaid. Will couldn't really tell. Jackson would be really unclear at times.

Will turned back to the practicing players. They were doing dynamic warm ups; high knees, lunges, the usual. He couldn't help but notice that each one of them was… well… attractive. Would Coach be angry if the Rampancy guys went after the Sirens? They weren't on their team, after all. No matter what Coach said, Will knew that Alex would be off flirting with them as soon as their game was over.

"There are only five of them," Jackson noted.

Will looked over the Sirens, counted, and then counted again. "So there are," he confirmed. "Where's the last one?"

"Probably late," Jackson said with a hint of satisfaction. "Must be a great team, if part of them aren't even there for practice." Will couldn't help but smirk. Jackson was going to be biased against the Sirens, no matter what, and would probably get satisfaction from the smallest things, like one of their members being late. Both he and Jackson had been late to numerous practices, but for Jackson, this Siren's absence was almost like a small victory.

The Siren's coach, a short, stocky man with a wonderful mustache, blew his whistle and sent his team to the locker rooms to change into their Grifball armor. Everyone in the stands began to chatter excitedly; this was the first time that anyone would see a professional all-women team play Grifball. Even Will found himself tapping his foot excitedly, while Jackson feigned a yawn. He was more anxious to see them play than he would let on, Will guessed.

When the team came out, Will was unsurprised to see that their armour was a bright pink, with various coloured accents. He also noticed that their sixth player had joined them in full armour, and was talking to the coach. The coach seemed to be yelling at her for being late, which Will sniggered at. He had been at her end multiple times in the past.

The players got in formation for a scrimmage. With their full armour on, he couldn't tell who was who. He again nudged the fangirl next to him, and asked about it. The girl rolled her eyes.

"Seriously, it's like you don't even _follow_the Sirens!" She said, exasperated. "Mikasa has the black accents, Sarah has the green, Kitty has yellow, Ella has red, Beth's the one with the purple, and the one with the grey is-"

The girl was cut off by the coach's whistle, which sent the Sirens into action. Will was immediately impressed. Both sides of the scrimmage started with a perfect Spawn Bonk- something that Rampancy still managed to mess up now and then- and kept the match going with some pretty decent moves. The captain's skills seemed beatable, as did the short one's- Kitty- although the petite Tank was unpredictable and all over the place with her moves. That might prove a problem for them, if executed well. Mikasa was good with an energy sword and moved amazingly fast, but Will would bet everything he had that he was faster. Still, pretty impressive for a teenager.

It quickly became clear who the substitutes would be - Ella Ruz, whose skills were mediocre, and Beth Rhine, who seemed to be yelling at her teammates the entire time. Both were overshadowed by the sixth player (whose name Will still didn't know), who moved with surprising skill and agility even though she was carrying the graceless gravity hammer while she played Tank, although she was clearly their runner. Her moves were calculated and smart, and she was about as fast as Mikasa. She was probably going to be a problem.

It was hard for Will to admit that the thing that the Sirens had that Rampancy didn't was teamwork. As great as a captain Jackson was, the guy still had some weird problem about having girls on the team. Will wished that there was some way that he could convince him that Arika, Kiara, and Ellen were a beneficial part of their team, but he was too stubborn. He would have to figure it out for himself. Until then, the team would still be in almost two parts: male and female. Plus the Sirens were stacked with Hybrids, so the majority of their team would do somewhat well in most positions.

Will snuck a glance at Jackson. He was leaning forward in his seat, chin cupping in his palm, eyes narrowed. His eyes darted back and forth between the players. He sat like that, motionless, until the practice was over. When their coach blew the final whistle, the fans stood up and cheered. The fangirls next to will were jumping up and down.

Jackson was still sitting, his eyes following the Sirens as they walked out. "They're decent," he mumbled.

Will looked at him, shocked. "Really."

"I said _decent_," he added defensively. "I didn't say _good_."

"But you were thinking _good_, yes?"

"No," Jackson said too quickly. He stood up and brushed himself off. "Ready to go?"

Will looked at him sceptically, smirking. "You're actually worried."

He narrowed his eyes, unsmiling. "I am _not."_

Will laughed and hopped up one row of bleachers excitedly while Jackson looked up at him, annoyed. "You are _too_!" Then he thought about it and stopped jumping. "Wait. That's bad, then."

Jackson grabbed him by the arm and pulled him down. "By the end of this week, we'll be good enough to blow them out of the water."

Will couldn't stop staring at him. How could Jackson, their fearless leader, be worried that they would be beat by a bunch of girls? It couldn't be. This must be an alternate universe or something. "So you're thinking if we played them right now, we would lose," he offered, smiling nervously.

"No," the captain said evenly, "I'm thinking we'd win by one or two points, tops." He turned around and smiled. "By the end of the week, it'll be a shutout."

He paused for a moment before adding: "Provided our deadweight doesn't get in our way."


	12. Chapter 11: The Pressure's On

**(A/N) Hey guys, time for your latest dose of Grifball: Running Rampant, this particular update written the sensational WednesdayA 3567, only the good kind of sensational, not the Miley Cyrus kind. Just clearing that up for you all! Also, let this be a notice that applications for this fic are closed from now on, for the time being. I'll read over the submissions and put up the list of accepted writers on our forum in the morning. A Big thanks to all those who applied!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven - The Pressure's On**

**Ellen Thompson**

**Written by WednesdayA 3567**

* * *

_"A good leader can engage in a debate frankly and thoroughly, knowing that at the end he and the other side must be closer, and thus emerge stronger. You don't have that idea when you are arrogant, superficial and uninformed." -Nelson Mandela_

* * *

Ellen walked into the gym tired and sleepy eyed. She'd stayed up nearly all night going over tactics that might come in handy for the game. Will and Jackson hadn't exactly come back with reassuring news, and it worried Ellen. She was right on time for their last training before the game, but she saw everyone else was already there. The rest of the team was jogging laps around the room while Coach set up what looked like suicides in the middle of the court.

She groaned inwardly at the thought of suicides without any sleep, but at least he wasn't making them sprint to warm _up_ to suicides. A slow jog was all he apparently asked for today, and Ellen dropped her helmet on the bleachers to fall into step with Arika. She only nodded at Ellen and kept running. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot. Perhaps Ellen wasn't the only one who had enjoyed a sleepless night. Of course, they shouldn't be stressing, this is only supposed to be a friendly pre-season game, but it's also the first time they will be judged in the professional leagues.

She noticed Kiara had also taken up a pace slightly slower than usual and she had purple splotches under her eyes, yet the men seemed perfectly fine. So it was probably just nerve wracking for the women. The men were all used to the stress of the first game of the season, but this would be the first time the women were really judged. Sure, they'd been judged on Stuman's show, they'd been judged when they first became a part of Rampancy, they were even judged when the first announcement was made. But this would be the first time they were judged for their skill in front of thousands of hardcore Grifball fans.

Ellen shook her head, bringing herself out of her nervous thoughts. They'd all do great. They had been training for this, they were chosen specifically to be brought above the amateur circuit. She just needed to remember to watch her motion sensors. That was always her downfall.

Coach blew his whistle shrilly, right next to Ellen, and she had to refrain from covering her ears. He probably wouldn't appreciate the gesture.

The rest of the team jogged over to him, and Coach looked at all of them somewhat sternly.

"Alright, everyone. As I'm sure you all know, this is our last training session before the game tomorrow. I know it's only pre-season, but that doesn't mean we do any less than our very best!" Ellen smiled, knowing his rhyme was accidental. He didn't seem to notice the rhyme or the smile. "I want you all to take it a little easy today; we can't risk any last minute injuries. Just some suicides, a scrimmage, and maybe we'll go over a few tactics. Nothing too hard."

The team let out a small collective sigh, glad for the prospect of rest. He'd been running them all ragged lately with nearly non-stop training. Ellen didn't know about high and mighty mister Rothe, but it was a hard way for the girls to start. No way to learn but to jump right in, she supposed.

Coach briefly explained suicides for the millionth time, in case one of them had possibly forgotten. Ellen glimpsed Jackson rolling his eyes. He obviously believed Coach was only explaining to the girls. That couldn't be it. Ellen had been doing suicides in gym since middle school, and she knew the other girls had done the same. Coach was just explaining to the team the plan for today. . . right? He had always said they wouldn't get any special treatment, but the way he was explaining every little thing to them all the time sure made it seem different. Ellen wondered sometimes if he subconsciously believed the women shouldn't really be there.

She shook her head as though clearing it when Coach blew his whistle in her ear again. God, that thing was loud. She jogged to the centre of the room to line up for suicides. He had set up a column of cones for each of them, so no one would have to wait their turn. They all lined up and looked at each other a moment before Coach started them off. Alex winked at Ellen and she rolled her eyes in response.

The whistle shrieked again, and Ellen was pleased to see it was in Jackson's ear this time. She sprinted as fast as her long legs could take her to the nearest cone, then circled back. Then to the next nearest cone and back, and the next nearest cone after that, and so on and so forth. She focused on keeping her breathing even. Ellen resisted the urge to see where her team mates were in their columns of cones, successfully avoiding that childish competition. Yet she knew Jackson would be tracking each of their progress carefully, just like some dumb middle schooler. He would be pushing himself to beat everyone. Ellen only wanted to show Coach she was always doing her best.

She came back to the starting cone for the last time, and finally looked up at her other team members. She had done well, she was the first woman to finish, but Kiara and Arika were close behind. Jackson had an ugly smirk across his face; he must've finished first. Alex was trying to catch Kiara's eye (she was resolutely looking in the opposite direction) and Will sported a smile meant for everyone.

Coach let them all catch their breath for a few moments before blowing his whistle again, and away they went. They stopped and started only another three times. Ellen always refused to let herself look up until they stopped for that round.

And then Coach and Jackson cleared the cones off the floor to get ready for a small scrimmage. Ellen walked over to the bleachers to snap her helmet on. She magnetized her Gravity Hammer to her back and her Energy Sword to her hip. Coach called out their teams.

"Jackson, Alex and Ellen are over here." He pointed to the left end of the gym. Then he pointed to the right end of the gym. "Kiara, Will, and Arika on this side. Both teams, go head on over to your side and discuss your plans. We'll only go best out of three today." And there was that whistle again.

Ellen waved to Arika and Kiara as she jogged over to join Alex and Jackson. Kiara gave her a sympathetic shrug as she turned to her own team. Ellen supposed the sympathy was in order; she would have to deal with Jackson by herself. Maybe Alex would be tolerable today, though.

She stepped up to join their mini-huddle, and ignored Jackson's eye rolling glare. Alex smiled at her and winked again. She decided he was worth a smile back. Jackson only glared at both of them, but mostly Ellen. She raised her eyebrows and calmly stared back at him. Alex looked back and forth between the two, then cleared his throat.

"Well, as evenly matched as this staring contest _is_, we should maybe get started. Personally, I think charging into the game with no tactic whatsoever is a fan_tast_ic idea, but you guys may think differently."

Jackson grunted and looked at him. "Yeah, you're right. May as well make the best of what we've got. Let them have first possession, and then I'll take them out with my Grav Hammer as they rush towards the goal. You grab the ball, Alex, and run as fast as you can. With any luck, you'll score a goal before they even respawn." He was only speaking to Alex, and refused to even _look_ at Ellen.

She glared at her captain and spoke angrily. "Umm, helloooo? What do you expect me to do? Just stand here and look pretty?"

She could see Jackson shift his weight to his other foot and his eyebrow rose. He didn't say anything. Ellen decided to propose a different tactic, since he chose to ignore her. "Alright," her tone of voice taking charge of the situation, "I agree that we should let them have first possession. Give them a false sense of hope, so to speak. You take out Arika and Kiara if you can, and I'll sneak up on Will from behind while he's running. Then Alex can run for the goal, in possession of course, and we'll cover him as they respawn. You believe you're invincible, but you can't make me stand on the sidelines. Grifball doesn't work two to three." She kept her gaze on Jackson, waiting for an answer.

Alex moved up next to her and said, "Come on, man. She's right. We need three people. At least include her in the plan." He smiled at Ellen and took that opportunity to place his arm around her shoulders. He quickly received a sharp elbow to the ribs in return. He winced and removed his arm but kept his place next to Ellen. She supposed she should be thankful he was standing up to their captain and his friend next to her.

Jackson looked at the both of them. She could see his jaw set in defiance. "What if you screw it up?" he growled. Ellen brought her hands up to her shoulders, palms out, and lowered her head in surrender.

"If I screw it up, I'll do whatever you want for the rest of today." Alex looked a little shocked and Ellen was surprised, herself. That wasn't like her. Oh well, it didn't matter because she wouldn't screw it up. She'd prove to Jackson she was perfectly capable.

Jackson gave her a rough nod as Coach blew the whistle for their starting positions. There was that absolutely quiet moment as everyone tensed, waiting for the start. The checkered flag of Grifball, if you will.

Then there it was. The only whistle that really mattered in Ellen's mind. And then, the most amazing thing of all; it started just as Ellen had seen it in her mind's eye.

Will rushed for the ball, Arika and Kiara right behind him. Ellen could tell her friends had been told to spread out, but they couldn't quite remember. Ellen only just had that thought as Jackson took them both out with one grav hammer swing. Will was halfway to the goal and Ellen sprinted after him, swearing under her breath. She hadn't accounted for his speediness. Alex was on the other side of Will, also trying to catch up. Ellen put on a burst of speed, she was close enough to reach him now. She pulled out her energy sword with a crackle, which cost her a few precious seconds of speed. Will was just a few more paces from the goal; he could almost just have thrown the ball by now. She could practically feel Jackson's glare on her back and knew she was too close to screwing it up. Then, at the very last moment, she lunged. Ellen caught the tip of her sword on Will's shoulder, just barely triggering the respawn sensors in his armour. Any further on the edge and she only would have scratched his armour. Will stumbled a little before flashing to the respawn point, and the ball was tumbling in the air for a split second before Alex scooped it up.

Jackson whooped as he crashed down his hammer again just for the heck of it. Alex ran so fast he was nearly a blur. All Ellen had to do was keep Arika occupied so Alex could make it to the goal. Arika swung her hammer menacingly, but Ellen was only trying to keep her focus, and simply hopped out of her way lightly. Arika only had time to raise her hammer again before the bomb exploded and the whole room lit up in an orange glow.

Ellen, Alex and even Jackson yelled in triumph as Arika nodded at Ellen and returned to her side of the court. Coach gave them another moment to figure out their next tactic. Alex gave Ellen a high five, and Jackson begrudgingly nodded at her. She stood up maybe just a little taller.

"Alright, you guys. Surprisingly, that worked rather well, Ellen. Guess I shouldn't have ignored you." Ellen grinned beneath her helmet, but didn't say anything. Despite her pride, she didn't want to rub it in or say 'I told you so.' She simply returned the nod and waited for his plan.

Jackson seemed almost to expect Ellen to say something but she didn't, so he plowed on with another tactic. "Alright, Alex, this time I want first possession. That'll be up to you. Ellen, I want you to cover him closely. Like a bodyguard of sorts, while I'll go further forward and try to take the girls out again. If they don't spread out, that oughta be easy. They were in really bad formation last time, let's hope they didn't fix that. I think we can wing it a little this round. Ellen, you're not half bad after all."

Ellen grinned and bounced on her toes as she stuck her hand out. "Truce?"

"Tell ya what. If you don't screw this round up either, then it's a truce."

Alex burst into the conversation as Ellen slowly lowered her hand. "Awww, friendship! Come on you guys, we got this!"

Coach blew his whistle once; they lined up in starting position. Once again, and Alex ran like a speed demon. He faltered a little when he saw the other team.

Will, Arika and Kiara hadn't moved except to take out their gravity hammers. They stood stock still, waiting. Instead of trying to fight it out, they were simply going to guard the goal. Alex had the bomb in hand, but he couldn't make it to the goal. Ellen put her back to the wall and slid along it until she was about ten feet from Kiara. She knew Kiara would be watching her motion sensors, but maybe she was too focused on keeping Alex away from the goal to notice Ellen creeping up next to her. Ellen was just about to lunge her sword into Kiara's side when the tank spun on her heel and crashed her hammer down in one smooth movement.

There was a split second of blinding pain and then the flying feeling of respawning back at the starting point. Ellen shook her head to try and clear the ringing sound out of her ears and deactivated her sword. Well, it had been worth a shot. She looked to Jackson, a _what now? _expression on her face.

He sneered at her. "**Smooth."**

Alex was still running around in front of the opposing team, hoping to find an opening. Ellen could see what he was trying to do. He was running just close enough for them to try and use their hammers, but he would hop out of the way at the last moment. He was trying to make them smash each other. It would've been a good tactic too, if Will hadn't known it. Ellen could just imagine Will warning Arika and Kiara about it through their helmets' radios. But maybe two targets could make them more likely to hit each other. . .

Ellen ran up to join Alex, her sword out. She looked as though she was trying to lunge underneath their hammer swings. Alex's voice came buzzing through her radio. "**What are you doing?! You won't be able to get past their defenses!"**

**"Yeah, but maybe they can get past their own defenses for us. I'm not important here; it's okay if I get hit. I just want them to hit each other in the process. That way you can get to the goal. I figured two moving targets would help a bit more than one." **Alex looked at her for a second, and maybe he was smiling at her, but Ellen couldn't tell.

**"What about Jackson?" **A loud crash and a louder swear answered Alex's question as Jackson was flung back to respawn. Ellen turned to look back him, which proved to be a mistake. Will got her this time, and now she was back where she started. Ellen raced up to help Alex again, only now realizing this could go on in an endless loop. She needed to break through their damn defences!

She came back at them with more energy and fancy footwork than she'd ever shown before. She was locked in battle with Will and now she realized that he had always gone easy on her in training. Ellen grinned, knowing that now he was putting in the effort because she was a threat. That meant she might have a chance. He was good with the gravity hammer, she couldn't deny that, and Ellen felt the sweat pouring down her face as she ducked and dodged and weaved around him. He had the upper hand using his gravity hammer while Ellen used her sword, but if she'd used her own gravity hammer she'd already be dead. Ellen and gravity hammers don't always cooperate very well. She was only tiring herself out, for it appeared Will had no breaking point.

Alex came over to try and help Ellen, if only to draw Will's attention away from her. Ellen tried to shake her head and wave him off, eyes wide, when Will brought his hammer down on the both of them. CRASH! They both died, Alex dropping the bomb. When they flashed back to the starting point Ellen turned to him, rather angry.

**"What the hell?! I almost had him! I **_**told**_** you, I'm not important! It doesn't matter if I'm killed, but you just lost us the bomb!" **Alex shrugged angrily, activated his sword, and ran around and away from her. Ellen turned to see where he was going, and swore softly under her breath. Will had grabbed the bomb and was running towards the goal. Jackson was right behind him, sprinting, and Alex was behind Jackson. She saw that Will was too far ahead; they'd never catch up to him. Maybe Alex would've had a chance to catch up if Ellen hadn't lost her temper.

She watched as Will threw the bomb onto the pad. She watched him throw his hands in the air and yell in celebration. She saw Jackson and Alex talking in hushed, harsh tones. Jackson came stalking over towards her, Alex in tow. She could tell they were mad. If she hadn't turned on Alex after they had respawned, maybe he could have caught Will in time.

Jackson didn't address what happened the last round; he simply gave them a new plan. He was ignoring Ellen again, though. She understood why he was giving her the cold shoulder. She couldn't pay much attention to his new tactic, and only looked up sheepishly when he stopped talking to Alex. She half-heartedly asked him, "What about me?"

She didn't expect a kind answer, and she didn't get one. "You? Just stay out of the way."

The whistle blew and Ellen trudged over to the starting point. She looked to Alex for maybe a smile or thumbs up, even just a noncommittal shrug. He stared straight ahead. Ellen knew she messed up, but everyone did once and awhile! After all, this is just a friendly scrimmage! Oh, well. Maybe Alex is just siding with his friend for once. Ellen sighed and looked forward, waiting for the whistle. There it was, and Jackson slammed down his hammer behind Alex in an unorthodox and dangerous launch. Alex was almost too close to Jackson's gravity hammer to survive, but he did, and he was flying through the air, straight towards the ball.

Will saw this and ran towards where Alex would probably land, sword drawn. Ellen saw his move and ran forward to fend him off so Alex could make a safe landing. Jackson yelled at her over the radio, **"I said stay out of the way!" **Ellen ignored him, despite the angry heat rising in her cheeks, and kept running. Will was watching Alex, trying to gauge what position would be best for spearing him.

He didn't see Ellen right by his side until it was too late. She slashed across his chest, he collapsed before respawning, and Alex landed right next to Ellen. He nodded at her gratefully and said, **"Thanks, Ellie." **She only nodded back and ran to clear his way to the goal. Jackson was there too, ignoring Ellen, like always. He and Kiara were battling briefly before he took her out too aggressively for Ellen's taste.

Ellen was going after Arika when she was shoved aside by Jackson, who had been running behind her. She stumbled back a little bit, shocked. **'**_Well, fine then. He can do whatever the hell he wants.'_

Ellen clenched her jaw and stalked towards the sideline. Alex scored another goal and the bomb exploded again. Jackson and Alex high fived while their opposing team shrugged and smiled at each other. Alex actually came over and gave Ellen a one-armed hug, telling her, "Thanks for not listening to the asshole over there, Miss Ellie. I wouldn't have made it if you hadn't stepped in." He gave her a lopsided grin that was, admittedly, pretty cute. Ellen broke into a smile and thanked him. Coach blew his whistle, calling for them all to gather around.

"Alright everyone! Good game. I think you all got a good workout and learned some about improvising! Things don't always go to plan." Ellen couldn't help but look at Jackson when Coach said that. They'd certainly learned how to wing it, for better or for worse. Mostly worse.

"Jackson, Alex and Ellen, you guys won today. Great job. Jackson, you've still got a lot to learn about the definition of team work. That better not be a problem in the game. Kiara, Will and Arika, nice job with that defence in the second round. That worked much better than I would have expected.

"Alright, I think that's pretty much it for today, since the scrimmage ran longer than I expected. Which shows that you all can hold your own. Just a reminder, here's the line-up for tomorrow. Alex, you'll be our Runner with Ellen as your Defender. Mister Rothe as our Hybrid and Miss Myles as our Tank. Will's the Runner on the bench and Kiara will be next to him as our backup Tank." He looked at Jackson pointedly, and Ellen remembered his outburst last time the line-up was discussed. "Any problems? No? Didn't think so. Okay, you all are done here for today. Go home, rest up, and don't stress too much. Remember it's just a game. Admittedly, a game we want to win, but still. . . just a game. I'll see you all tomorrow." With that, he turned and headed into his office.

Ellen snapped her helmet off and grabbed her water bottle from the bleachers. She chugged about half of it and wiped her forehead with her arm. Kiara and Arika were next to her, doing more or less of the same. It was funny how the girls and boys gathered separately, just like a schoolyard. She caught Alex watching her out of the corner of his eye, and he didn't look away once he realized she saw. Ellen gave a funny half smile, just to toy with him, and flipped her hair down and then back up to re-tie it. She looked back up, and noticed something missing in the scene. Jackson wasn't there. He was trailing Coach Anderson, apparently bickering with him. Both men seemed angry. Ellen could only assume it was about the line up again. She gave a small sigh and shrugged. She would ignore him, that's all she could do. Ellen turned to her friends.

"So, what a game, huh? You guys were great! I didn't expect a simple scrimmage to run that long. Guess we're just getting better," Ellen said, not really paying attention. She was still watching Jackson from her peripheral vision. What a jerk.

"Yeah, but you won! Even having to work with Jackson, you won! Now, that's a _true_ victory. That first round was really good; we didn't see it coming at all!" Kiara said. Ellen knew she was still a little scared of Jackson after what had happened their first training, and was glad the sweet redhead didn't have to put up with him today. Ellen smiled as she brought her attention back to her friend.

"Well, thanks! That was the one time Jerkface Rothe listened to me. Us girls certainly held our own today, huh?"

"Hell yeah!" said Arika. "We've shown we're really not such a 'liability' after all. We are so ready for tomorrow." The three shared a smile. They all slung their sports bags over their shoulders and headed to the locker rooms to change. Will and Alex walked a little way to their right.

Arika gave Ellen a small nudge to the elbows and nodded towards the men as they walked across the vast room. She smiled teasingly. "Hey, have you seen the way Alex is always looking at you? And that attempted hug today? Ellie-" she drew the nickname out as Ellen laughed, "-he's got his eye on you!"

"Aw, come on! I told you last time, I don't get involved with team members! Besides, he's got his eye on anyone that moves. It's not like I'm any different."

Then Kiara sighed, and they looked back at her suspiciously. Her pale cheeks turned pink. "He's really not that bad you know. I wouldn't mind it if someone paid me that much attention."

Ellen laughed. "Girl, are you kidding me? You didn't notice how he was winking and waving at you in between suicides? You just refused to look at him." Kiara's blush deepened, and they both laughed.

Arika hushed the two and said, "Shut up, here he comes now." She was right, for there was the ladies' man. He grinned at all of them.

"Great job today, girls! So, any big plans for tonight?"

Arika smirked and shrugged noncommittally. Kiara blushed and said, "Well, not reeeeaaaally. . ." Ellen's plan had been a nice hot shower at home and a good book with a cold beer. But she couldn't tell Alex that.

So instead she deadpanned, "I was going to fly to the moon in a hot air balloon, but I suppose you're going to suggest something better?" She gave him that funny half smile again. He laughed and started to answer, but they had reached the entrance to the women's locker room. Arika and Kiara simply waved at him and walked by, but Ellen spoke to him as she walked backwards. "What's that? Sorry, Alex, you're gonna have to stay out there! Maybe we can talk later!" She gave him a wink and turned. Oh, how she loved to mess with his mind. Ellen knew he probably hated her for it by now, but somehow that made it more fun.

She looked over her shoulder to see Alex talking to Will. Will slapped him on the back, laughing heartily. Alex pouted a little before following Will to their own locker room. Ellen smiled and thought, '_When did I get so devious?'_

She walked into the locker room to see both her friends waiting for her. Arika put her hands on her hips and said, "You are a cold, cruel woman if you don't ever plan to date him."

Kiara piped up with, "However, if you do. . ." All three cracked up and Ellen just shook her head. She was so glad she had dived into Grifball with these new friends. Tomorrow's game would certainly be interesting, if nothing else.


	13. Chapter 12: The Night Before

**(A/N) Hey guys, it's pretty late over here, and I have work early tomorrow, so I'm just going to keep this short and sweet, thank the ever amazing BrambleStar14 for writing this chapter, and encourage all of you to check out the latest RWBY episode! Hope this chapter is worth the weekly wait! In a couple of weeks, we'll be updating this fic twice a week, but until then, you're just going to have to wait! :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve – The Night Before…**

**Alex Cross**

**Written by BrambleStar14**

* * *

"_In prosperity our friends know us; in adversity we know our friends." _― John Churton Collins

* * *

"So. This is it, huh?" Alex spoke quietly, but his words filled up the car that he and Jackson were occupying. Somehow, the whole thing seemed more final when it had been said.

The silence returned. The whole car was full of oppressive, potentially violent silence, the kind that said clearly that someone was trying to hold back murderous urges.

"Yeah. Tommorow." Jackson grunted absentmindedly as he turned the wheel, steering the car down another busy road back towards the centre of the city. It had been a busy few weeks in the lead up to Rampancy's first game with their new players. Those weeks had been hectic as Coach pulled out all the stops, getting them up earlier and earlier until Alex and Will had just decided to sleep at the training arena.

Even though the game was tomorrow, Alex knew that Jackson still worried about his team. No matter what he told the press or the Coach, he was still unhappy with his three new additions. Alex wasn't really sure why, but that wasn't his concern. In his opinion, the new trio had performed exceptionally well, overcoming the pressure of being the first wave of female candidates and Jackson's... _overbearing _personality.

Kiara was certainly doing well, now that Will had taken her under his wing. Alex allowed himself to muse on that relationship and how it had come about. Will didn't normally train players like that, was it just concern for a teammate, or something else? But Kiara had come into her own, swinging her gravity hammer ferociously and slowly learning to tell the difference from feints and charges. She would certainly perform in the game.

Ellen was also doing extremely well for herself, the nervous woman Alex had first met weeks ago had turned into a hardened Grifball fighter and made sure that Alex was disciplined for any _lapses_in his concentration. She was still rejecting any advances he made, which was rather disappointing. Still, not to be unexpected, with his reputation. But the challenge was what made it interesting.

Arika was also living up to her "Original female player" status, learning new techniques within the hour and employing them on the battlefield with brutal efficiency. Alex wasn't expecting any problems from any of the three tomorrow, but Jackson clearly felt otherwise.

Alex glanced over at his captain every few seconds, to check up on any possible blood pressure problems that might occur at the mention of three certain players in his team. Jackson was staring straight ahead, face set, teeth clenched, looking rather like a man consigned to death the next morning rather than a make or break sports game. Apparently Alex's glances were annoying him, for he spoke rather abruptly.

"Alex," he managed through a mass of teeth locked firmly together. "Is there a reason you keep glancing at me, or should I get worried?" Alex grinned slightly at Jackson's sarcasm, before responding carefully, aware that speaking with Jackson was like handling a live grenade, time consuming, pointless and potentially explosive.

"Well... ya look worried and angry and your blood pressure may or may not hold out and you're clearly worried about the three girls and how they'll perform and-" Alex cut off. Jackson was glaring at him in the mirror over the seats. "AndIthinkI'llstoptalkingnow."

The silence returned, before Jackson suddenly sighed.

"Alex, let's face it, we have no idea how they'll perform tomorrow. They might-" Alex cut him off.

"We have no idea how any of us will perform tomorrow. Ya gotta lighten up and stop being such a moody git!" Jackson looked stunned. Apparently he was expecting Alex to nod and say things like "Yeah" and noncommittally grunt. He had clearly forgotten who he was talking to. "Jackson, don't worry about how they perform and just focus on yourself. Or do you think they'll do better if their captain goes to pieces in the middle of the game?"

Jackson paused, considering, before he responded. "It's not me I need to worry about. I'll do fine. But the girls aren't ready, you know it, I know it-"

"No Jackson, I don't know it!" Alex's voice was rising slightly. "Stop assuming that everyone else has your viewpoint when you enter a debate or better yet, unclog your ears! They've had the exact same training as you've had. Are you not going to perform tomorrow, _Captain?"_Alex's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Alex" Jackson cut across him. "They aren't ready, face it! They are not prepared enough or trained enough to face Siren tomorrow!" He sat back slightly, apparently pleased with this argument, but missing the gaping hole in it.

"Jackie, mate. Siren is a team comprised _entirely of female players!_I'm not quite sure if you've noticed, but there is a distinct correlation here. They are a brand new team that has had the same training as our girls, and Rampancy includes us! We'll have no problems!"

Jackson snarled as he summoned a retort, probably from the section of his brain devoted to "Reasons to hate female players and bitch about it to Alex".

"Siren's females are better! They're better co-ordinated and clearly created specially to prove that females can play! They are better than ours!"

Alex was stunned. Was Jackson trying to use any possible excuse to gain the upper hand or did he genuinely believe what he had just said?

"Jackson, that's just bullshit and you know it. That is the first thing that possibly entered your head when you decided to bitch about female players to me! Siren are not better, but since you won't possible believe that-"

Jackson's hand slammed onto the dashboard.

"I will not see my team ruined because some girls couldn't get their act together! Not after last season! No matter how 'important' they are to the league, if they don't _man up,_they're off the damn team!" He cut himself off, panting slightly.

The conversation had rapidly gone downhill. Jackson was just refusing to acknowledge that anyone else could be right or even have an opinion in this matter. It was always about what he thought, or his father. "Just wait until my father hears about this!" was the tagline that Will and Alex had traced on his locker once with permanent marker. The phrase oddly reminded Alex of a book he had once read, but he couldn't think why.

"Is it because you're afraid of losing to girls, Jackson?" Alex probed gently. "Or is it afraid of admitting someone else is right?"

Jackson scowled.

"I think you just want to get into their pants!" he spat, flinging the words like an insult at Alex. "I mean, we all know about you, don't we! I expect you cheered at the announcement, all excited at the prospect of sharing a locker room or just meeting new girls. Even when there weren't girls on the team, you still went after the others! Is that why you want them on the team, _Alex?"_

Alex sat there, reeling for the briefest of moments, before grabbing the handbrake and yanking it backwards, ending the car's journey as its momentum halted. Alex opened the door and got out, not looking at Jackson. After he climbed out and slammed the door, he leaned into the window to see Jackson staring straight ahead, face unreadable.

"Sometimes Jackson, you need to shut the fuck up. Sometimes, you just go too far."

And Alex turned and walked away, leaving Jackson behind as he walked up the street, still seething at the words his supposed friend had flung at him. Sometimes, Jackson just didn't get it.

After about four minutes of walking up the street, hood up, not wanting to be recognized for once, he heard a shout behind him.

"Alex! Wait!" Alex slowly turned on the spot, to see Jackson drive up next to him, window down, looking apologetic for once.

"Mate, I'm sorry alright? I was out of order." Alex raised his eyebrows slightly, before climbing into the car again. After pulling the door shut and as Jackson started the car back up, Alex turned to him.

"You're a real prick, you understand that, right?" Jackson nodded, his face serious.

The moment lasted for about two seconds before they both started laughing.

"Jesus man, you looked ready to kill something." Alex choked through his laughs, while Jackson concentrated on not crashing. This was how they worked.

"So, Alex?" Jackson said after a few minutes. "Are we heading to the club, or should I take you back to your place?"

Alex knew what Jackson meant. He had no clue of the destination and needed to know where to drop Alex. But, ah what the hell? It was the least Alex could do after the stunt Jackson had just pulled. He raised his eyebrows.

"Jackson, I know we've known each other for a while, but I just don't think of you like that, I'm sorry. I mean, we're just heading back from training, not a bloody date!"

The noise Jackson made as he choked and went bright red was totally worth it.

"Shut it!" He managed after a few seconds while Alex courteously waited.

"I mean, you're not really my type, sorry. I don't go for the dark, moody, stuck up, stubborn guys like you. I am flattered though."

"Shutupshutupshutup."

"Just drop me off at my place please Jackson and don't get any ideas. You know, I always wondered about you, I guess this just proves it."

"I will crash this car if it means you die."

"Why not go for Will, Jackson? I heard he's available at the present time, thought that might not happen for much longer, with the way Kiara's moving in. Is that why you hang out with the guys so much and not the girls?"

"Burst into flames and die."

The car had pulled up beside the skyscraper holding Alex's apartment. He opened the door, before pausing. Apparently, Jackson wanted him gone.

"Get out of the car before I cast you into the darkness."

"Oh wait, sorry man, I just remembered. The press conference, Will's confession, we all heard it. I'm so sorry that it didn't work out for you Jackson, but-"

Alex quickly jumped out of the car as Jackson made a sudden lunge. Shutting the door, he walked into the building, laughing as the first of many threatening texts that would arrive that night from Jackson reached his phone.

Tomorrow was the day. It would make them or break them. Alex hoped the girls were up to it. They probably were.

He'd spent enough time not training and staring at them for him to be pretty damn hopeful.


	14. Chapter 13: What It Takes To Win

**(A/N) Hey guys, sorry about the late update, but it's finally here, the latest chapter in the Grifball: Running Rampant saga, written by the one-and-only Lili-Hunter! This is the first of a two-parter, featuring the first pre-season game for Rampancy, up against Team Siren. Who will win? Read on to find out!**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter Thirteen - What It Takes To Win**

**Jackson Rothe**

**Written by Lili-Hunter**

* * *

_"The power of the human will to compete and the drive to excel beyond the body's normal capabilities is most beautifully demonstrated in the arena of sport." _- Aimee Mullins

* * *

_"RAM-PAN-CY! RAM-PAN-CY!"_

Jackson cocked his head to one side as he shut his metal locker door. The crowd's cry, though muted, could still easily reach his ears. His lips quirked upwards in a smirk - Jackson doubted that Team Siren was receiving the same warm welcome.

With fifteen minutes before the match would begin, the crowd was working themselves into a frenzy. It wasn't unheard of, even though it was just a pre-season game. The Grifball-deprived fans were anxious to see the first game after the long off-season.

A knock at the locker room door made Jackson and his teammates glance up in surprise. Coach Ryan Anderson lowered his hand, and leant against the doorframe. His features were twisted in a gruff scowl, though Jackson knew better than to assume he was angry. Coach simply had his game face on.

"Are you ready?" he asked, running his gaze over the six Rampancy players in varying degrees of dress. Jackson looked over his shoulder, frowning as he, too, examined his teammates. Alex and Will were, predictably, relaxed, but the three girls met Jackson's gaze with varying degrees of expected defiance - as though daring him to ask Coach if they could trade them before the match started. But Jackson clenched his jaw, and simply ignored them.

Ellen and Kiara were quickly suiting up; shooting somewhat annoyed glances towards the men whom had invaded their locker room. Well, it wasn't like Jackson had wanted to be there. He'd shoved Alex and Will into the girl's locker room once they had dressed, annoyed but knowing Coach would want to address them as a team.

Arika had already put her armour on, and was sitting on one of the benches. She'd been rubbing the handle of her grav hammer when Coach Anderson had walked in, and her face was now set in a stormy expression. Jackson shrugged mentally: some women were just downright unexplainable.

"Yeah," he finally answered the Coach. "We're good."

Coach Anderson's eyes narrowed in surveillance. "No one's feeling sick, or anything, right?"

"Maybe you should ask us that after your speech, Coach," Will called out, lacing his hands behind his head as he leant on the locker at his back. Jackson caught his eye, and the Rampancy Runner grinned.

_Typical._ Jackson fought a snicker as Coach Anderson fixed Will with a heavy glare, with the latter's grin only growing wider.

"We're fine," Arika assured him, after a long moment of amused silence. He glanced at her, and then abruptly smiled.

"Perfect. Now," Coach began, turning serious. "Our start together as Team Rampancy was not without its frustrations-" he glanced at Jackson, whom scowled, "-but I have every confidence in this team. We _can_ win this match. _You_ have sweat, bled and sacrificed for this sport. Now, I want you to prove that it was worth it. Go out there, and claim that field as yours!

"This isn't _just_ as a pre-season match. This isn't just something you can half-ass and still expect to win. This is _Grifball_. This match is _our_ debut, ladies and gentlemen. This is _our_ chance to prove everyone out there that this year, we _are_ a team to contend with!

"Team Siren is out there. They've trained for this moment, just like we have. But they have one, critical advantage: they are _desperate_. This is their biggest chance to show the world that they, as a team,_deserve_ to be here." Two of the girls sent meaningful glances towards Jackson at Coach's words. He rolled his eyes in response. "And so, ladies and gentlemen, I want you to get _desperate_," Coach told them, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Play well, play hard – and know that you _can_ win. I know you, and I've trained you. And I've done a _bloody_ good job." Coach suddenly paused, and took the time to look them all in the eye before he delivered his parting instruction. "But above all… have fun."

The team roared their approval, slapping their thighs or clapping their hands together to contribute to the noise. Coach grinned, and dipped his head in his own version of a bow. Will leant forward, muttering, "Sick as a dog" under his breath.

After a few more moments of proudly surveying his team, Coach Anderson pulled his lucky cap over his head – an old, worn blue hat with the word '_Rampancy_' across the front – and ducked out through the door. The applause faded, and Alex and Will turned to Jackson expectantly. It was custom for the team captain to make a short speech before the beginning of the first pre-season match, and also the first actual match of the season – and Jackson was nothing if not traditional.

_Damn_. Jackson hadn't actually considered what he was going to say. Usually, it ran along the lines of how their masculinity was at stake, and how Jackson expected nothing less than their absolute best – and he'd kick their ass if they didn't provide it. It had always earned a few – if confused – chuckles. So far, Jackson hadn't ever had to make good on his threat – but his team had never doubted that it was heartfelt.

Now, though, Jackson didn't think that Coach would approve – not with the girls under so much pressure already, as Alex had told him. And Coach was pissed enough at him, as it was. Jackson hardly needed to give him another reason to bite his head off every goddamn training session.

Jackson stood, taking a few steps back so he could watch all of their faces without having to turn. His features twisted automatically in a scowl, and the Rampancy Hybrid made no attempt to wipe it away. After a long moment, Alex raised an eyebrow, prompting his friend, and Jackson cleared his throat.

"So." He pursed his lips, rolling the words on his tongue before forcing them out. They sounded halting and slightly awkward, even to his own ears. _Whatever_. Words had never really been Jackson's strong suit – physical action was more up his alley. "Rampancy's first match of the season is _now_. This is what we've trained for. _This_ is what we've worked our asses off, day after day after goddamn day, for. _This_is our chance to show them that we're ready, we're willing, and we're _fucking capable _of taking that Cup at the end of the season as our own. It's now, boys, or never," Jackson finished. He grinned widely, pleased with his speech. The three girls shook their heads, lips pursed in silent anger, and Jackson realized that he'd accidentally ignored the girls in his speech. Then he shrugged it off mentally. Old habits die hard, and Jackson was in no hurry to forget the past.

Team Rampancy got up, and started to move quickly to collect their gear. The minutes had flown by, and the match was almost about to start. Alex and Will soon disappeared through the doorway towards the spawning area, hollering and whooping in excitement, but Jackson hesitated in the doorway. The three women waited impatiently behind him. Abruptly, Jackson turned to face them.

"Look," he began. The words came quicker now in his desperation to get them out, before they'd be late for the game. His gaze moved over their faces, taking in their expressions. All of them were distrusting and faintly angry. "I know that this is your first game with us, and I know you're eager to prove yourselves. But _please_…" Jackson trailed off, biting at his lip in true concern. A few of the females' faces softened, the anger draining as they watched him hopefully. Jackson took a deep breath before looking at them all, individually, in the eye, hoping to emphasize the importance of his next words. "Do _not_ get in our way."

With those final words of advice, Jackson spun on his heel and stormed down the corridor. He raised his voice, joining in the exhilarated cries of his two male teammates. His chest was light, and Jackson, somehow, just _knew_ that the match would go their way. Rampancy would have an easy win against Team Siren.

Well, so long as the women heeded his warning, that was.

* * *

Jackson Rothe blinked, quickly attempting to shake away the immediate disorientation that accompanied each spawning. His heart rate began to rise, pounding against his ribs in anticipation for the match.

Jackson had only five seconds to familiarize himself with the field, and he quickly took advantage of it. A long, metal field stretched before him, caged in by matching walls. His gaze flickered upwards.

_Beep._

Crowds filled the stands, eager and attentive to the start of the first match of the pre-season. Cameras hovered as low over the field as regulations permitted, their beady lens zeroing in on Rampancy, and its opponent.

_Beep._

The Sirens were frozen, their armour locked - just as Jackson's own suit had entrapped him, the blue metal cold against his skin. Uncertainty flickered momentarily in his mind as he stared at the line of women, each one glaringly obvious in their bright red armour. He brushed it aside almost immediately - sure, they had seemed a surprisingly tough team when he and Will had spied on them, but now? Jackson wasn't afraid.

_Beep._

The Sirens were an all-women team. Worse than that, they were an all-women team of previous amateurs. At the most, they'd only had a few weeks to prepare for the professional league - the same amount of time they'd had to train Kiara, Ellen, and Arika. And, though even Jackson could admit that they were mildly competent, the girls simply weren't in the same league - metaphorically - as the more seasoned and experienced men.

Jackson's lip curled as he stared down at the Sirens. Hell, he was pretty sure that he, Will, and Alex alone could take them on and win. All the girls had to do was exactly what he had told them - to stay _out_ of the men's way.

_Beep._

Jackson turned his head to the right - as much as he could, with his helmet unrelentingly frozen - and gazed down the line. He was on the very edge of the team, with Ellen, then Alex, and finally Arika to his right side. "Remember the plan!" Jackson yelled, hoping that their helmet radios had been turned on already.

He didn't get a chance to find out.

_Beep!_

Jackson exploded into movement. His gravity hammer was firm in his grip; he held it low, eyes narrowed. His legs pounded a furious beat across the Grifball field.

But luck was not on their side. Jackson felt, rather than saw, the two explosions that rocked the stadium - Alex rocketed past the team captain just as he saw Siren's Runner be launched across the field. "Go, Alex!" he roared, focusing on the woman whom had copied him at the start of the match; sprinting forward as her teammates launched the Runner. Her gravity hammer waved threateningly - an obvious challenge.

Jackson grinned.

He lifted the hammer into its offensive position, his muscles easily taking the weight: straight up against his right shoulder, with the head just above his own helmet. His T-shaped visor steadied, focusing entirely on the Tank that awaited him.

They sprinted towards each other, mirror images of menace, until Jackson leapt, bending his legs and forcing himself into the sky. Triumph was sweet on his tongue as he brought the gravity hammer down during the peak of his jump, towards the Siren Tank. But she didn't stop, disappearing beneath him.

_What the fu-_ Jackson's lips peeled back in a snarl as he landed heavily, turning immediately, just _knowing_ that the Tank was behind him and determined to smash her helmet in-

He spun just fast enough to catch her gravity hammer in his chest.

Jackson crashed into the floor; the friction of the stadium against his cold blue armour throwing up sparks. He coughed, tasting blood as his chest caved in on itself. The Tank glanced at him, a wide grin just visible through her visor, before he disappeared.

One split-second of exquisite agony, as his every atom was transported, and Jackson had respawned at Rampancy's end of the field. Coach Anderson had warned them about the advancements in technology; that now they would immediately be respawned, instead of having to wait until the next score. Jackson had expected it, been prepared for it - but even he was momentarily thrown by the way the earth had seemed to shift under him, one moment pressing into his back and the next, firm under his feet.

Jackson pitched forward, stumbling slightly as his balance wavered. His body was still slightly confused from the abrupt shift in gravity. He shook his head, finally focusing enough to look at the rest of the field.

The sight that met his eyes was as horrifying as it could have possibly been. Jackson had had enough faith in Alex to assume he'd grab the bomb and successfully beat off the other team's Runner - but now, he saw that he'd been mistaken. A Defender had cornered Alex, keeping him caged while the Sirens' Hybrid, Tank, and Runner raced toward the goals. Arika and Ellen were rushing to meet the offenders.

God_damn_it! Jackson raced to meet the Sirens head-on, barking commands into his radio. "Alex! For God's sake, get your head in the game!" An indignant grunt was his only response. "Ellen, you take down that _fucking_ Runner! They'll try and split from the herd while the other two fight. Arika, with me!"

No one answered, but the sound of their breathing in his ear was enough for Jackson. They'd heard him. Now he just hoped they'd obey him.

Jackson's words seemed to jolt Ellen into action. Her energy sword flashed as she lunged, but a Siren moved at the same time, and they clashed in a shower of plasma.

Then, just as Jackson had predicted, the Siren Runner fell back. The Tank and Hybrid closed ranks, forming an impenetrable wall. In a move that the Runner had probably hoped to be discrete, she slipped out of their peripheral vision, and headed towards the goals, though her bright armour made it anything but. Ellen hesitated, allowing the Runner to slip by her.

"_WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?"_ Jackson roared, anger tinting the edges of his vision a dark crimson. "_ELLEN, GO!_"

The Rampancy Defender disappeared in a flash of blue, chasing after the Runner's orange back. Loud screams and cheers threw Jackson's concentration for a moment, as he and Arika faced the Siren Tank and Hybrid head-on. Every goddamn feminist in the crowd was going wild, bold in the face of Siren's impending score.

For a moment, they stood at an impasse, before the Siren Hybrid made the first move. Jackson leapt backward as the gravity hammer struck the floor, and Arika slammed her weapon down before the Hybrid could recover. She disappeared with a strangled cry.

To stay out of Arika's splash zone, Jackson had had to jump quickly to the side, which put him toe-to-toe with the Siren Tank - the same one he had been beaten down by earlier. Up close, he saw that the woman was formidable - hell, she was almost as tall as he was, and probably packed near the same amount of muscle. Her bulky armour flashed under the fluorescent lights.

His lips pulled back in an animalistic snarl. Jackson's shoulder burned as he swung the gravity hammer low, aiming to sweep the Tank's legs right out from under her. His mind was utterly focused on the fight, until his radio crackled. Ellen's voice was desperate.

_"I can't-"_

The stadium shuddered. All thoughts of the Tank fled from Jackson's mind as he whirled. Fire licked at the metal walls as two silhouettes - one blue, one red - watched the explosion.

_Fuck!_ The Sirens had scored the first point of the match. Anger blazed through his body, even as Jackson's armour locked tightly around his limbs. A moment later, and the world dissolved around the Rampancy captain.

_Beep._

Five seconds until the next round. Jackson inhaled deeply, forcing himself to shove his emotions to the back of his mind. He needed to make rational decisions, without his anger to influence them.

Still, Rampancy had just been utterly smashed, and Jackson wasn't about to forget it.

"What the _fuck_ was that?!" he shouted, knowing the radio would deliver his tirade straight to his teammates. "That was disgraceful!"

"We get it, Jackson," Alex interrupted. The Runner had probably been hoping to shut him up, but Jackson wouldn't be put down that easily.

"No! No, you don't! God_damn_it, but Siren just kicked our ass!" Jackson glared down the line; hoping eye contact would reinforce his words. "Alex - what the hell, man! How in God's name did you not get the bomb?!"

"I-"

But Jackson bulldozed right over his friend. "And Ellen, for God's sake, that was pathetic. Get your shit together! Arika-" Jackson paused. She hadn't actually done anything wrong, that he'd seen.

"Yeah, Jackson?" And from her tone, she knew it too.

Jackson's teeth ground together. "Just stay out of my way," he growled eventually.

"Look, dude, it's only one score! We'll do better," Alex insisted. "Same plan, right?"

"Fine." Jackson's reply was curt.

The buzzer went off, and Jackson leapt forward. This time, he didn't immediately reach for a weapon. Instead, the Rampancy Hybrid poured all of his energy into racing towards the bomb. Jackson had his own plan – one that was sure to even the score.

One of the Sirens had guessed his plan, and started to run towards the bomb as well, while their team tried to launch the Runner. But the Siren had wasted time by reaching for their grav hammer, and had no chance of catching up. Jackson laughed, a little breathlessly.

Then, the bomb was in his arms. He felt like oil had been dumped over his head, sliding in slick streams down his armour. Jackson couldn't see it, but knew his armour would be turning a bright, characteristic orange.

Alex whooped in his ear, and the team captain grinned. Maybe, the tables had turned. "Al, get your ass down here," he ordered. "And go long!"

The Rampancy Runner laughed, guessing his plan, and Jackson turned his attention to the Sirens racing towards him.

The Runner had broken free of her teammates, and was the closest to his position. Jackson's gaze narrowed, but he stood his ground. He remembered his final, parting words to the girls before the match, and felt a flash of irritation. It was starting to look like he'd need them more than he'd originally thought. "Arika, I'm going to need back-up once Alex has the ball. Get here now!"

She grunted in response, and Jackson grimaced. The Runner was getting closer, which demanded his full attention. A flash of blue flickered in his peripheral vision - Alex, doing exactly as he'd been told.

_Good._

Jackson started to back away, as though his courage had abruptly fled. The Sirens followed boldly, unaware that they were moving exactly as Jackson had wanted them to.

When he deemed them close enough, Jackson pivoted on his heel and ran. A couple of assholes in the crowd started to boo, even as the feminists backing Team Siren - thinking they'd scared the Rampancy captain into retreating - began to cheer.

Jackson raced past Arika, muttering one last order as they passed - "Don't kill them". He glanced over his shoulder, and began to turn.

As he'd expected, the Sirens had grouped together in their chase - leaving a clear pathway down the field.

Jackson sprinted down it now, getting as close as he could to Alex before the Sirens could catch up. Alex was running backwards, waving his hands. "Throw it, Jacky!" he cried, his voice high in excitement.

So Jackson did. The bomb whistled through the air, curving a low path. Alex's hands stretched for it, and brought the bomb to his chest, where he cradled it roughly, cackling in glee.

Jackson spun, reaching over his shoulder for the handle of his gravity hammer. Arika couldn't hold back the Sirens forever, and she'd need his help. When he looked, she was - unsurprisingly - struggling.

The Siren Tank smashed her gravity hammer towards Arika, but the latter leapt out of harm's way. She had been hovering in front of them, not making a move to attack them yet blocking them all the same. Jackson was rushing to help block the Sirens when _it_ happened.

Arika was proving somewhat competent at barring their way, but it was three against one. In her desperation, the Rampancy Tank was bound to make a mistake.

And she did.

Arika swept her gravity hammer in a low circle, utilizing the muscles in her arms to keep the Siren's Tank and Hybrid at bay. Sensing a weakness, the Runner jumped forward. Arika twisted, desperate to fend off her opponent. The head of her hammer slipped, and slammed into the Runner's unguarded stomach.

"No!" Arika cried, pulling the gravity hammer back. But it was too late, and the Runner disappeared.

"Fuck! Alex, watch out for that Runner!" Jackson shouted.

Suddenly, Ellen yelled across their helmet radios. "Arika, that Tank is-"

An energy sword slashed across the Rampancy Tank's back, slicing her open from shoulder blade to hip. Jackson heard a pained gasp in his ear, and then she disappeared. He growled, a wordless expression of his anger, and ran to take her place.

"Oi, Jacky, what'd you say? I didn't catch it- oh, crap," Alex swore, suddenly going unusually quiet.

Jackson whirled, forgetting the Tank and Hybrid, and started sprinting towards his friend. Alex and the Siren Runner were caught up in an intense standoff, neither wanting to take the first move. He didn't care if the two Siren women caught up to him - he just _needed_ Alex to score that fucking goal!

However, Lady Luck had some kind of personal score to settle with Jackson, because the Siren Runner stepped forward, and in a smooth move that Jackson himself had done on many occasions, ducked beneath Alex's sword, and twisted around him to stab him in the back. Alex's grunt of pain reached the team captain's ear, just as the Siren reached down and plucked the bomb from the ground, her armour turning a bright, obvious orange.

Jackson had slowed in horror as Alex had been killed, but now he began to pick up his speed. Anger was building in his chest, and collected in a pulsing headache. For God's sake, couldn't he trust _anyone_just to do their _fucking_ job?

Jackson swapped his grav hammer for his energy sword, letting the plasma flash to life in a deadly extension of his hand. It flickered by his side as he ran. The sword would prove a more efficient weapon against the Runner, he knew.

But so great was his concentration, his utter focus on running that damn Siren through, Jackson didn't feel another presence behind him until it was too late. He began to turn, his sword already curving in a wicked, deadly arc - but the Siren Hybrid had already struck.

It was commonly known that Professional Grifball players _need_ to have high pain thresholds. It's a simple necessity, or else they'd be blacking out from the agony of every death and respawn. The Rampancy captain could take broken bones and searing plasma in his stride. Hell, even a heart attack wouldn't faze him anymore.

But, despite that, Jackson absolutely hated death by energy sword. Every millimeter of the burning plasma could be felt as it ripped through his flesh. He'd take a grav hammer to the face over an energy sword to the chest any day.

Unfortunately, today was not his day.

Jackson gasped as the sword sliced through his ribs, burning and cutting through his lungs. He coughed, and blood splattered the inside of his helmet, smearing his vision.

_Oh God, the pain. Jackson couldn't breathe-he couldn't see-his chest was on fire-oh God make it stop-make it stop-he couldn't feel his legs-_

Then, abruptly, he was at the other end of the field. His helmet was clean, no flecks of blood smearing his vision. He didn't allow himself even a moment to adjust - Jackson surged forward. Horror and fury mingled in his mind until he could hardly breathe past the white-hot rage blocking his throat. The field flashed before him: Arika and Alex were cornered by the Siren Tank and Defender, while Ellen was struggling to hold back the Hybrid and Runner.

He came up behind them, and stabbed his sword through the Hybrid's spine. She gave a satisfying cry, and he laughed cruelly before throwing her body to the side, where it would disappear. Ellen cried out, diving to the side to avoid being hit by the female Hybrid.

The next few seconds passed in a frenzied blur. The Runner leapt over her fallen teammate. Jackson lurched forward, his sword whistling through empty space. Ellen quickly tried to regain her balance, but it was too late.

An explosion once again rocked the stadium, and Jackson was once again left speechless by his anger. The crowds were screaming, and the noise was grating against his nerves. His armour locked up, and a moment later the team captain was again left waiting for the next round. Rampancy was silent, waiting for its captain to speak.

"Jacky?" Alex began tentatively. But the Hybrid stayed silent for another long moment, a war raging in his mind.

One thought stood out from all the others: Rampancy was losing to the Sirens, and his family would be watching. His father would be watching. Will would be watching. _His father and Will were watching, and Rampancy was losing to a team of _fucking_ women._

Jackson felt like he'd just taken a grav hammer to his lungs.

"New plan," he began, forcing the words past the blockage in his throat. "No launch."

"What?" Ellen asked, disbelieving.

"You heard me." Jackson flexed his hands inside his stiff gloves. "We'll run for it." Rampancy was silent, and so Jackson glanced down the line. The line-up had changed, with him and Alex in the center, and Ellen and Arika on the outside. He adjusted his plan accordingly. "Al and I will be in front, with you two just behind us. Pick a player and keep them busy, okay? Alex and I will score."

"Are you sure?" Arika questioned. "We've never done that before."

"I'm sure," Jackson growled. "Just do it."

This time, when the buzzer went off, the team moved forward as one. Jackson knew that his plan depended on speed - it had to be lightning fast or the Sirens would catch on.

They sprinted down the field in formation, just as Jackson had demanded. The Siren Hybrid was racing to fend them off from the ball as her teammates launched the Runner - a moment later and she was there, her armour turning the characteristic orange as she picked up the bomb.

However, Jackson was depending on one key element: the Runner's separation from the rest of her team. It was one of the few weaknesses of the classic Spawn Bonk Launch, and very easily exploited.

"Spread out!" Jackson yelled. Instantly, Ellen and Arika separated from the captain and his second. Now, Rampancy was spreading further across the arena. Siren would be hard-pressed to slip past them.

The Siren Hybrid rushed towards them. Jackson opened his mouth, ready to deliver instructions, but Arika was already ahead of him. She wielded her grav hammer like a quarterstaff, careful to trap the woman instead of killing her, so that she couldn't respawn and make trouble for them later. The Hybrid stumbled, and Arika was quick to press her advantage, shoving her roughly into the wall.

Now, the Siren Runner was Rampancy's next obstacle. She hesitated, suddenly uncertain as she eyed the formidable force about to run her down.

Ellen started to speed up, moving to be equal with the two men. The Siren, faced with no other option, started to run to Jackson's left, as though hoping to get past the three Rampancy players.

But Ellen was waiting, and she was eager to prove herself. Lulled into a false sense of security by their two-point lead, the Siren Runner was overconfident. Ellen easily took her down.

Ellen stood protectively over the bomb, and Alex started to veer to the left, in order to pick it up.

But Jackson had other ideas. He hit his friend lightly with the butt of his hammer. "No," he growled. "I'll get it."

Alex raised his eyebrows, but fell back. Jackson knew his reaction was probably the same as many others in the crowd. After all, Alex _was_ the Runner. He was the Hybrid - which was more of a supporting role to both the Tank and Runner.

Not this time. Now, Jackson was taking Rampancy's fate into his own hands.

He reached down, swiftly scooping the bomb into his own hands. His armour shuddered, and his shields sparked, as Jackson turned orange. Alex hesitated only a moment before running at his side. "I hope you know what you're doing," the Runner muttered, his voice low.

"I do," Jackson snapped back.

The three Rampancy players moved forward, in an even line. The Siren Defender made straight for Jackson; Ellen shoved past him, wielding her hammer as Arika had done.

Alex and Jackson left her behind. Now only the Tank and Runner remained in their way. The men exchanged looks, and then bulldozed onwards.

The Sirens had, at some level, realized their plan. They ran straight towards their opponents, and the gap was closing fast.

"Jacky, give it to me! You can take them - I can't!" Alex yelled, excited in the face of his plan. It was no secret that Al's strengths lay with his sword and his fast legs - the worst weapons to use when outnumbered.

"No," Jackson growled.

"Jackson, don't be an ass! I can _do_ this!"

"No!" the captain yelled. His friend's pleading only angered him. God, couldn't he see that Jackson _had_ to do this? He'd trusted Alex before to score, and the Runner had failed.

Rampancy was down by two points, and the only person Jackson trusted to do the job right was himself.

"Jackson!" Alex's voice held the barest traces of true anger - which was almost unheard of in his friend. "Just trust me!"

For _God's sake_, Jackson didn't have time for this!

His voice was rough, and sharp with anger. "Alex, shut the _fuck_ up!"

The Sirens were almost upon them. They were coming towards his right, where Alex was waiting with his hands ready - still expecting Jackson to pass him the bomb.

"I-"

"_OH FOR GOD'S SAKE_!" Jackson made a split-second decision. Alex was clearly unable to fend off the two Siren players. And Jackson, quite simply, could _not_ pass the bomb.

Jackson spun slightly, and half-ducked. The Rampancy Hybrid slammed his shoulder into his friend's unprotected middle with all the force of a battering ram. The Runner let out a light "oof!" as he was sent flying through the air.

Alex crashed straight into the two Sirens, and all three fell to the floor.

Jackson sprinted past, not even sparing a glance for his friend. The goals were just ahead - he dived, hands outstretched. His breath caught as he placed the bomb, and the Rampancy Hybrid quickly shoved himself away from the scoring plate.

The floor beneath his feet shuddered, and Jackson was rewarded with a fiery explosion. He laughed, the sound only slightly breathless. Finally! Rampancy - and most prominently, Jackson - had truly turned the tables.

The crowd's resultant cheer was a little less... enthusiastic... than he'd expected it to be. Mortified whispers tickled at the very edge of his hearing, and Jackson scowled, his previous good mood fading.

He spun on his heel, striding back down the field. Alarm bells started to ring in his mind as he registered that his armour hadn't locked up yet.

Usually, that was only done for one of two reasons: either the point he'd scored had, for whatever reason, been discounted, or because a player was injured.

_Oh._

Jackson rushed to his friend's side. Alex was sitting on the arena floor, one leg drawn up to his chest. The other was stretched out on the ground. He tried to move it, and winced.

Jackson fell to his knees, grabbing the Runner's shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked, anxious. He and Al might have been having their differences lately, but he was still Jackson's closest friend. "What happened?"

"'What happened?' _'What happened?'_" Alex was furious. "What happened is that you shoved me into those two, you asshole!" He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, pointing out the Runner and Tank, whom watched on.

Jackson lifted his gaze. "What the hell are you looking at?" he shouted. "This is your fault! Fuck off!"

"_'Their fault'?"_ Alex spluttered.

His tirade was interrupted by the arrival of a pair of medics. They kneeled beside the fallen Runner, quickly assessing his leg.

Ellen and Arika soon also arrived, their metal boots slapping against the floor. "What happened?" Ellen asked, concern creasing her brow.

"Weren't you watching?" Jackson replied, gruff.

"No, actually," Arika answered, her eyes narrowed. The words dripped with scorn. "We were a little busy."

"Right. Alex is just a little banged up. He'll be fine."

Alex huffed.

Jackson tuned out the rest of the conversation, instead choosing to listen in on the medic's quiet assessment. But the captain couldn't make much sense of the frenzied muttering, and so he shoved one's shoulder. The medic stumbled, and Jackson realized he'd done it a lot harder than he'd intended.

"What's wrong with him?" Jackson demanded. "How bad is it?"

The medic looked at him reproachfully, and the Hybrid clenched his jaw. However, the majority of stadium personnel were well accustomed to Jackson's violent mistreatment of them, and he just gave a weary sigh before answering. "We think that he sprained his ankle."

Alex glared at his friend. "You _sprained_ my _ankle_," he choked out.

Jackson was more confused than apologetic. "What? How?"

The Rampancy Runner gave a short, clipped description of how his ankle had twisted in his suit when Jackson had near-thrown him across the room. He'd gone down with the two Sirens in a tangled mess of flailing limbs, further wrenching his sprained limb.

Jackson was silent for a long moment after his friend had finished. Alex watched him, his green eyes unreadable.

Eventually, the captain looked up. "Alright," he said slowly. "You can't stay on the field. We're gonna have to sub you out."

The Rampancy Runner opened his mouth to argue, but seemed to think it through. Alex exhaled slowly, and then nodded. "Fine," he said, through gritted teeth.

Jackson held his gaze for a moment longer, and then lifted his head. He quickly instructed Arika to signal for the Coach, and that they needed a sub.

It was impossible for team coaches to watch from the actual sidelines of a Grifball match. Instead, they watched from a room above the stadium, with large one-way windows. Headsets were available, if they wanted to listen in on the teams' conversation as they played, though they could not communicate themselves. Another player had once told him that large televisions in the room streamed live feed from some of the cameras, too.

But Jackson had no idea if any of it was true. He only knew what he'd been told, never having been inside that room himself.

"What's going on here?"

_Finally_. The gruff voice of Rampancy's very own Ryan Anderson cracked through the air. Jackson sighed in relief and got to his feet, offering a hand to Alex. The Runner smacked it aside, instead choosing to let Ellen and Arika help him to his feet - or, rather, foot. He held his ankle above the ground, hopping awkwardly.

Jackson ground his teeth together, barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes.

"My ankle is sprained. I'm out," Alex informed the Coach.

"Damn," he commented, raising an eyebrow. Despite the game-changing news, he was the very picture of calm. Coach turned to the young man by his side. "Guess you're in, Will."

Will grinned, his hazel eyes sparkling in excitement. Jackson snickered, and ruffled the Runner's messy brown hair. "Get your damn helmet on," he told him.

Jackson turned to watch as the medics exited the field. Alex looped an arm around Coach's shoulders, whom caught Jackson's gaze. The old man stared at him, eyes cold and hard.

Jackson was shocked at the fury burning in Coach's eyes. It was completely out of the blue. What had he done?

"Be careful, Jackson," Coach growled. His words were layered with meaning, and infused with warning. "We don't want any more injuries."

Still confused, the Rampancy Hybrid watched the pair walk limp away. The barest trickles of shame were sliding through his chest as he realized just how injured Alex, his closest friend, was. And all because of him.

Then Jackson banished the thoughts. _No._ He'd done nothing wrong. Jackson had acted in the best interests of the team. Shoving Alex had worked, hadn't it? Rampancy had scored.

He had done absolutely _nothing_ wrong.


	15. Chapter 14: The Cost of Winning

**(A/N) So guys, it's time to begin our new update schedule for Grifball: Running Rampant! So from this day on, we're going to be updating twice a week, on both Tuesdays and Fridays! This chapter is going up a little earlier than usual as my internet is dow nat home and I'm forced to update from college, but I'd guess that you guys aren't complaining! This update brings you the second have half of the freindly match, as Lili's original version was just so long that I thought it would be wiser to break it up, and so I have. Hope you all enjoy the conclusion as much as you enjoyed the first half, but who am I kidding? Of course you will!**

**Also, unfortunately, it appears that ParabolaOfMystery will no longer be writing for us, at least for the moment, so I'm forced to announce that we'll be recasting the postion as the writer of Agent Carolina in our fic, Phase One: Genesis, and its sequels. For those interested and looking for more information, PM me and I'll get back to you as soon as I can!**

**Enjoy! :)**

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen – The Cost of Winning**

**Jackson Rothe**

**Written by Lili-Hunter**

* * *

"_With too much pride a man cannot learn a thing. In and of itself, learning teaches you how foolish you are."_ ― Criss Jami

* * *

Despite Will's boundless energy and the efforts of Rampancy, the next score was placed by Team Siren, putting the score at 3-1.

Jackson didn't have to be a mathematician - which he most certainly was not - to know that Rampancy's chances of beating the Sirens and winning the match were becoming slimmer and slimmer. He was, understandably, irritated by the failure of his team. The Sirens, in comparison, were ecstatic.

But when Rampancy scored the next goal, their opponents sobered. Will smacked Jackson's hand in a celebratory high-five before their armour locked, shooting smug glances towards the other team.

Rampancy's mood lifted further when Will slid easily past all of Siren's defences, and sent the stadium rocking as he landed yet another score. It was then tied at 3-3.

However, their luck soon ran out. They were attempting to launch Will, whom had the bomb tucked beneath his arm, across the field. The Runner leapt just a little too late, and the shock waves from Jackson's and Arika's grav hammers caught him in mid-air. His body crumpled, and Will grunted at the sudden pain before disappearing.

Jackson swore, and leapt forward to retrieve the bomb from where it had fallen. Arika moved to his side, ready to defend him as they moved to the bomb plate.

The Siren Tank bulldozed towards them, her gravity hammer at the ready. Arika prepared to strike, but too late. She and Jackson were sent flying, landing painfully before they were respawned.

Team Siren pressed their advantage, and they placed the bomb within seconds.

"Fuck!" Jackson snarled.

"It's alright, Jackson," Will told him. "It's only one score."

The Hybrid shook his head adamantly. "They could win," he snapped. "They're one point away. A team of _fucking women_, and they could beat us!"

It was probably fortunate for them that the two women on his team chose not to dignify his remark with a response. Instead, he could feel their cold anger seeping across the radio link. But Jackson Rothe didn't give a damn.

_Careful, Jackson_, his conscience reminded him. _Will is watching. He's waiting. He _needs _you to do this._

Jackson exhaled, his eyes tightly shut. His heart was pounding in his chest. _Do it for Will_, it whispered, with the echoes of a lifetime of memories swimming before his mind's eye.

_Do _not_ fail him. Not again._

"It's okay, Will," Jackson muttered, his resolve strengthening. Rampancy could do this. They could pull their shit together and win. Right? "I won't let you down," he growled.

There was a long moment of silence, where confusion instead of conversation spanned their radio link. Eventually, the Rampancy Runner coughed. "What?" he asked.

Dim surprise registered in Jackson's mind, before he put the pieces together. _Oh_. Will and Will - one name, two very different people. Jackson swallowed an uncharacteristically bitter laugh. "Never mind," he told his friend. "I wasn't talking to you."

To Team Siren's disappointment, it was none other than Will Weissman whom landed the next score. Rampancy and Siren were now neck-in-neck, at four points each.

This was it: the final round – the one that would decide it all. Either Team Siren would score – and Jackson would live in a state of humiliation for the rest of his life – or Rampancy would sweep them off the board, and Jackson would still be able to look his family in the eye.

Jackson clenched his jaw at the thought, and swung out with his grav hammer. The Siren Hybrid gave a small cry, catching the hammer in her lower stomach, before crumpling in on herself and disappearing. The team captain leapt forward, and scanned the field for his next opponent.

He'd lost track of everyone, if he were totally honest. The final round was, as always, hectic and chaotic. Will had had the ball, only to be brutally killed by the defending Tank. Team Siren now had the bomb, and was making a run for it, with the Tank, Runner, and Hybrid rushing down the field.

"Ellen! Arika!" Jackson barked, eyeing the force about to - no, try to – run him down. "With me!"

They materialized at his side within seconds, breathing faster than normal. Jackson knew that the adrenaline would be racing through their veins like fire, just as it was in his. He glanced at his right, towards Arika, whom met his gaze with a small nod. They were ready.

The two sides crashed together with a boom, like thunder. The clash was bloody and brutal, and Arika managed to crush the Siren Hybrid with her gravity hammer, just before Ellen sliced open the Tank. Jackson moved to take down the Runner, before the problem was – quite literally – taken out of his hands.

Arika spun, lifting her gravity hammer and twirling in a low circle, before crashing the head into the Runner's ribs. She was thrown backwards, skidding along the arena floor as the bomb flew free of her grip, before disappearing.

Jackson bit back an angry, '_Don't steal my fucking kills, Arika!'_ and scooped the bomb into his hands. His shields sputtered and snapped, before humming back to life with much more power. He smirked.

Without needing to be told, the trio sprinted forward. Jackson was just about to call out for the other man to hurry up, just as Will caught up to them. "I'm here!" he said, breathless with excitement.

Jackson wordlessly handed him the bomb, and groped for the handle of his grav hammer. Will hadn't let him down so far, and the captain desperately hoped that continuing to trust him wouldn't end badly.

The entire team was breathing harshly in his ears as they ran, and a tiny part of Jackson's mind wondered how long the match was lasting. One hour? Two? Adrenaline may have been fuelling them now, but the Hybrid knew that they'd all start feeling the exhaustion soon. Hell, he was surprised that Ellen and Arika were still standing.

All four Sirens were preparing to block their way. The sight was hardly intimidating to him, but he prepared himself for a bloody and dirty fight. The gap was closing between them, and the team quickly picked decided on a plan. It was basic, and simple, but it would have to do.

The four Rampancy players lunged towards the opposing Sirens. At the last moment, Jackson and Will hesitated, allowing Ellen and Arika to close ranks. They wouldn't last long, but hopefully, long enough for them to win.

Will darted past the distracted Tank, with Jackson hot on his heels. The Hybrid would protect the Runner until he scored. Or at least, that was the plan.

As they moved past, Ellen and Arika clumsily followed, switching their positions with the Siren players so that they stood in their way. But it was not, by any means, a sound strategy, and the Siren Tank soon proved its weaknesses.

With a roar like a bull, she shoved Ellen aside and sprinted towards the two Rampancy males. The Siren Runner also ducked through the momentary gap, before Ellen regained her footing.

_Oh, shit._ Jackson's eyes widened slightly at the sight. Their plan – which had been all too flimsy to begin with – was currently crashing around his ears. "Run, Will!" he yelled, and spun on his heel. His gravity hammer was in his grip a moment later, and Jackson took a deep breath.

The two Sirens split apart, one racing up each side of the field. Jackson called a warning into his helmet, for Will's benefit, before his gaze fell on what was obviously the bigger threat. The Siren Tank.

The Tank swung, hitting the stadium floor so hard that the metal actually _rippled_. _Jesus Christ._ It was unnatural, for a girl to be that strong. Jackson leapt back, never taking his eyes off of his opponent. She dragged the hammer upright, and struck again.

But, once more, Jackson leapt out of the way, his heart pounding. He absolutely hated this – it was torturous. After the rapid action before, this game of chicken was killing him. He couldn't lash out at her, for fear of actually landing a hit and killing her, in which case she'd probably respawn and kill Will, ruining their chances at winning the match. But the Tank had no such reservations.

Slowly, she began to force him back. Panicked, he realized she was also forcing him to turn slightly – soon, they'd swap positions and she'd be free to run after Will. Jackson feinted twice, but the Siren paid his moves no attention. He was powerless, and they both knew it.

"You want the bomb?" Will yelled suddenly, his voice breathless in his ear. The Runner came into view over his opponent's left shoulder, and Jackson was struck through with panic. Any moment, she could turn and run – with no guarantee that the captain could catch her.

"You want this?" Will yelled again, shaking the sphere in his hands. _What the fuck was he doing? _The Runner's sword flickered, and he jumped backwards, out of reach. "Then take it!"

In what was either the most brilliant, or most fucking stupid move Jackson had ever witnessed, Will Weissman tossed the bomb into his opponent's hands. Her sword fell as she clutched at it out of reflex, and her shields began to spark, overcharging automatically. Her armour rippled, the red turning a bright orange.

Will's blade flashed into existence from the palm of his hand, and the Runner stepped forward. A heartbeat later, and the sword plunged into the Siren Runner's chest. Plasma burst through her back, and Will let go of his sword without pulling it free. The Siren Runner collapsed.

Will jerked into motion, snatching the bomb and running as though the hounds of Hell were chasing him. Jackson watched, transfixed, and completely forgetting the Tank before him.

Luckily, she had forgotten him too. She spun on her heel, and chased after the Rampancy Runner. But too damn late.

The biggest, most violent explosion yet rocked the stadium, silhouetting Will as he dove away from the scoring plate. Fire licked at the metal walls, racing along the floor in one huge burst before the flames disappeared. Black smoke hung in thick tendrils, and slowly floated towards the ceiling.

Was that the crowd, or his own blood, roaring in his ears? Jackson didn't know. Didn't care, either. But he loosed his own cheer, dropping his weapons and striding purposefully across the arena to envelop Will in a tight, bone-crushing bear hug. "It's about bloody time," he laughed.

"Ow," Will mumbled against his arm, but Jackson didn't care. They'd done it. They'd _fucking done it_. Bliss and an adrenaline high had caused some kind of pressure in his chest, a kind that could only be eased by a wild cry of exhilaration, which he did.

Arika and Ellen arrived a second later, and he stepped back so they could embrace Will, as well. Despite the heavy armour, his body was suddenly weightless. Jackson couldn't have kept the grin away from his lips even if he'd tried.

They'd done it.

Rampancy had won.

Long after the final cheer had quieted, Jackson wasted time in the men's locker room. Alex and Will had left over twenty minutes earlier, hollering their victory as the two journeyed to see if they could persuade the three Rampancy females - and probably all of Team Siren too, if they could manage it - to go out with them for a celebratory drink.

Usually, Jackson would be right by their side - hell, he'd probably be half drunk by now, too. But something in the way Alex avoided his gaze made Jackson doubt that he was welcome. The Runner's ankle had turned out to be only badly bruised, instead of sprained as they had first thought. But Alex's anger still remained, and Jackson didn't want to deal with his temper tantrums.

_Whatever._ Jackson brushed them off mentally, despite the sick feeling in his stomach. He didn't need them. Didn't want them, either.

"Jackson."

His name came quietly from the doorway. Jackson tensed, before letting out a grunt. He turned away from his open locker door, moving slightly to sink down on a bench as he gave a lazy, two-fingered salute. "Coach," he replied evenly.

Coach Ryan Anderson was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Greying hair hid beneath a worn blue cap, '_Rampancy_' written across it in thick white thread. His green eyes were in shadow, but then Coach reached up to pull his hat away. His expression beneath was stern.

"What in hell was that, Rothe?" he asked, rough and obviously pissed off.

Jackson raised an eyebrow, resting an elbow on his knee. His helmet was still dangling from his fingers, as he'd been re-stacking his armour for the umpteenth time – just wasting time, knowing that Ryan Anderson would find him eventually – when Coach had arrived. Coach Anderson's words had thrown him to an abrupt flashback to their conversation after their first training session with the girls. Coach had been pissed at him then, too. And Jackson still didn't think he'd done anything wrong. "What?"

"Don't you '_what_' me, boy." Coach's eyes flashed, a testament to his anger. "I want to know _exactly_ what happened on that field."

Jackson's lip curled, and he made no effort to hide his contempt. "Don't tell me you're getting deaf and dumb in your old age, Coach," he sneered, abruptly angry. Who the fuck was he, to get mad with Jackson? "We just won the fucking game, is what happened. No thanks to those damn girls, either."

Coach's eyebrows rose dangerously high, almost disappearing into his somewhat-receding hairline. "Excuse me?" he asked, his voice low in warning.

Jackson wasn't stupid enough to not know that that was the Coach's way of telling him to back down and take back his words. However, he was angry enough that he didn't care. "You heard me," he snapped, green eyes narrowing. "Those _fucking_ girls nearly cost us the game!" Jackson leapt off the bench, keeping his gaze locked with Coach's icy green eyes. His body was restless and near feverish with the leftover adrenaline from the match. It urged him to violence, singing in his bloodstream. But he couldn't lash out against the Coach - he was the _Coach_. So Jackson settled for chucking his helmet at the floor as he roared, "_Again_!"

"If you're done with your temper tantrum..." Coach's words were dripping with scorn. Jackson flushed under his tangible disapproval, but it only made him angrier. Coach had no _fucking_ right.

"I thought that the girls performed surprisingly well," Coach began, again. His voice less rough this time, as though he'd realized that he would only work Jackson further into unreasonable fury if he continued to yell.

Too _fucking_ late. The rage wrapped around him too easily, with his body and mind on edge after the game against Siren. His blood was burning; the tangible fury just about choked him.

"'Performed surprisingly well'?!" Jackson spluttered. His jaw set. "They made rookie mistake after rookie mistake! That first round - Ellen completely missed the Runner, and I don't even _know_ what Arika was doing!" Coach remained impassive, and so he forced on. "And the second round was even worse! Arika _ruined_ our chances for a score! It was perfect, until _she_ fucked up! Alex could have done it! And then, when Ellen and I cornered the Runner, she _missed her_, again! Then, Alex got fucking injured, if you hadn't noticed. And when we were about to score the fourth goal, Arika let us _both_ be killed. In fact," he added, shoving Coach's chest, "the only reason we won a single, _fucking_ score, was because _I_ did the work for them!"

Jackson's rant had left him slightly short of breath. He inhaled sharply, watching Coach's face for any sign that he understood. But Ryan Anderson's face was closed. His dark green eyes were hard, reminding Jackson of the way they'd flashed with barely restrained anger after Alex had been injured and subbed out.

"Actually, Jackson," Coach began, his voice unusually low, "the only reason that Rampancy won any points at all... is because the team worked together."

"Bullshit. Just because they picked up their act long enough-"

"_'Picked up their act'_? Rothe, believe me when I say that Rampancy's near loss tonight was through no fault of theirs."

Jackson flushed with anger as the full meaning of Coach's words hit. He stepped forward, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Look, _old man_, if you're suggesting that _I_ nearly cost us the game-" Jackson's jaw snapped shut mid-sentence. He didn't need to hear Coach's reply. The look in his eyes was every bit as damning as his confirmation would have been.

Jackson took a step back, fuming as he nearly smacked into the lockers. Coach watched as the captain stabbed his index finger towards his own chest. "I- I did everything! Rampancy _won_ because of _me_."

"Did we, Jackson, really?" Coach lifted his right down, using his fingers to count. "That first round - you _abandoned_ Alex, only to get yourself killed. And then, in the second, when you passed Alex the bomb; _you should have stuck to him like glue!_ Arika didn't need help - in fact, if you'd stayed with Alex, you could have dealt with the Runner while he scored. And Ellen didn't 'miss' the Runner - she dived out of the way of the Hybrid that _you_ threw at her.

"And you couldn't even stop there, could you?" Coach snapped. "Taking the bomb when you are _not_ the one professionally prepared to run with it - and then, further destroying _any_ remaining dignity you _might_ have salvaged, you had to sprain Alex's ankle and take him out of the match, just because he suggested the _only_ reasonable plan!"

Jackson opened his mouth to argue – _Alex's ankle hadn't even been sprained_, he wanted to yell – but Coach was certainly not done. He silenced him with a glare. "So, Rothe, don't you _dare_ try and put this on them. Rampancy had an easy win, before _you_ decided to screw everything up. The only reason we won is because _you_ got _your_ act together long enough to work as a team."

"I-"

"This was all your fault, Jackson. So don't give me grief about those girls - they did _damn_ well. All of those slip-ups and mistakes are on _you_. You've refused to see the value in those girls since day one, and I've accepted that, but I will _not_ stand to see you blame them for your own mistakes, Jackson."

With that final, cutting remark, Coach shook his head in disgust. He shot Jackson one final glance, as though expecting him to agree with him, before turning on his heel and storming out. His shoulders were rigid in pent-up anger.

"You're wrong, you know," Jackson called after him. In contrast to his earlier fury, his attitude now was controlled – almost smug. The Rampancy Hybrid spread his hands. "I_ know_ what you think – that I refuse to see the supposed 'value' in those girls because I'm 'a stubborn traditionalist'."

Slowly, Coach turned around. His eyebrow rose, almost delicately, as he waited for Jackson to finish. The team captain obliged. "But you're _wrong._ I don't '_refuse_' to see the value – I see what's _actually_ there. Alex and Will – they're both so damn _excited_ just because they have something nicer to look at every training," Jackson snapped, scorn dripping from every word. "And _you_! You, Coach; you're just so _fucking_ happy that your sport is making a half-assed effort towards 'equality' that you can't see what I can! You three – you're all blinded. _I'm _the only one seeing things as they really are." Jackson slapped his own chest with the words, his utter conviction burning brightly in his green eyes.

"They're amateurs," he growled, abruptly fierce. "It's how they've always been. It's how they always _will_ be. The potential to be great – the potential to be a professional – it's missing, Coach. What I see in Alex, and in Will – what was there in Anthony, Caleb and Brian – hell, what_ I_ see in the _mirror_; that spark, Coach… they don't have it."

Jackson bent down, quickly scooping up his helmet and shoving it in his locker. He shut the metal door with a snap, and slowly turned to face Coach Anderson once more. The fierce conviction was stronger, and enhanced by a simple, earnest desire for his superior to understand. "I know it, Coach," he finished. Jackson lifted his duffel bag onto his shoulder. The adrenaline was gone, burned out, with the remaining ashes reminding him that what Jackson really needed was a good, long sleep. He raised his gaze to meet that of Ryan Anderson's. "And I'm just waiting for the day where you'll know it, too."

Coach Anderson seemed stunned into silence. Jackson offered him a grimace, and stepped around him, before disappearing into the hallway.


	16. Chapter 15: Aftermath

**(A/N) Hey guys, sorry about the late update, but here we go at last! The aftermath of Rampancy's very first game together, and let's just say, it's not all pretty. But then again, was anyone expecting it to be?! Written as always, by the fantastic BrambleStar14, here, without further ado, is our latest chapter in this saga. **

**Enjoy! **

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**Chapter Fifteen – Aftermath**

**Alex Cross**

**Written by BrambleStar14**

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_"I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine." __― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice_

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Alex lay back in his chair, watching the rest of the team celebrate with both a sense of victory, a sense of intense frustration and finally, anger. They had won, they won the match. More importantly, they had overcome expectations placed upon them. How many people had threatened or placed bets or gambled wagers or anything else on the outcome of this match. Alex just wished he could have done more.

No scores. No goddamn scores thanks to the efforts of Jackson. He had tried, he really had, but of course his captain wasn't satisfied and decided that the best idea was to injure one of his players, oh that would always work in his favour, wouldn't it!? Half the time, Alex thought Jackson was just a genius and it was the rest of the world that was stupid, but at moments like these, it couldn't be clearer that Jackson was a complete moron! Right now, Alex was firmly confident with him just being completely idiotic.

He watched absently, still seething with anger, as the rest of the team celebrated. Will was cheering happily while the girls hugged and giggled and generally acted more like girls then Alex had ever seen, except for that one time at the club. They were incredibly happy with their victory, happy that they'd proved that women can play, that they'd overcome Jackson's expectations of them. Ellen was laughing as she jumped around the room like some kind of hyperactive squirrel, while Arika seemed to be squealing the word "YES!" over and over and Kiara chatted excitedly with Will, apparently slightly disappointed at not being able to play, though still happy with the results.

Alex wished he could join them, both in spirit and in actively bouncing around. But he couldn't. Because of Jackson.

Who, quite by coincidence, wasn't here celebrating and was instead likely being torn a new one by Coach next door. Alex didn't envy him.

He groaned slightly as he moved his leg slightly, sending another bolt of pain through it as he hissed slightly. Seriously, what the hell was Jackson thinking when he barged into him like that.

"Alright, Alex?" Will had walked over, Kiara following as they both grinned. Alex managed a smile.

"Yeah, fine. We won, didn't we? Nice plays there Will. That move with throwing the bomb and then stabbing her was awesome!" He tried to inject some enthusiasm into his voice to hide the bitterness underneath. Will, sensing this, looked slightly sheepish.

"Look Alex, I'm sorry about Jack-" Alex couldn't let him finish.

"It's fine, Will. Looks like you're the runner for the next three weeks. Make the most of it before I get back and kick your ass." Will laughed and Kiara managing a weak chuckle, apparently still wary of Alex, not quite sure of how to approach him.

Will grinned widely. "Never know, Coach might make me Runner permanently. Jackson's likely getting replaced right now. You know, considering he's in there with Coach and all."

Kiara grimaced. "He's really getting chewed out. Deserves it though, considering what he did." She shot a glance at Alex.

"He won the match. He'll be feeling entirely justified in his actions. That's just how he works, unfortunately for everyone else. He thinks that if you win, you've done what's right, despite what you've done to do it." He gestured to his leg. "Still unsure what he was intending to do with that move, despite injuring one of his own."

"Did you see him blame those Sirens?" Ellen asked, walking over, having caught the conversation. "He blamed them for your leg!" She seemed put out by this. "Does he live in the real world, or is he actually just plain crazy?"

Alex shrugged. The anger was still rooted firmly inside of him. Talking about Jackson was making it worse. A lot worse. At least the thought of Jackson having his ass handed to him by Coach was cheering him put.

Slightly.

Putting Rothe firmly from his mind, he looked up. "So, what are you lot doing later? After the battle of the ages?" They laughed a little, a stronger sense of camaraderie then before, now they had finished their first match, even if it was just a friendly.

"We're probably hitting a club later. You wanna come? I promise to keep you under control this time, after the last time you got drunk." Will teased.

Alex turned red and buried his face in his hands. "God, don't remind me. At all. That's something I want permanently erased from my mind, how that ended up."

He could see the girls shooting curious glances at Will through his fingers. Seeing Will's grin, he groaned. Well, there was one story and source of embarrassment coming out later.

"What story is this? Sounds interesting." Ellen chuckled. Alex decided to make a brave attempt at running away.

"Well, I'm off," he offered, standing up and collapsing back into the chair a second later. "On second thoughts, maybe not." Pain was shooting up his leg again. How was he going to put up with this for one day, let alone three whole weeks? When he got back, him and Mr Dysfunctional were having serious words.

It was like Jackson was trying to damage their friendship beyond the point of repair. Because, sooner or later, one of them would snap. Alex did not want to see what happened if they did, but it was getting likelier every day. The others were laughing and Alex chuckled as well, appreciating the humour of the situation. He was considering turning down the club in favour of heading home, when the door on the side of the room barged open and Jackson stormed out, stopping when he saw them watching him.

The entire room was dead silent, the atmosphere thicker than the inside of Jackson's skull. Alex saw him look over each of them, contempt in his eyes, before landing on Alex. Alex looked away a second later, not interested in whatever he would see there.

After several seconds, during which Alex swore not to say a word to their erstwhile Captain, he turned away, snorting. "Don't let this go to your heads," he grunted, before walking out.

"We love you too!" Will yelled after him helpfully, Jackson openly ignoring the remark. Will turned back to the room, grinning. "Showed him."

Seconds later, Coach walked in. The whole team snapped to attention in seconds. Alex snorted. They weren't in the military, like in a super-secret program with codenames or something. Despite looking furious initially, his gaze softened as he looked at them all.

"Good job." He said, voice gruff, but proud. "Damn good job. See you all in training. You alright, Alex?" Al nodded firmly and Coach returned the gesture. "Good." As he walked out after Jackson, Alex could have sworn he saw him smile.

"Right," Will said, clapping his hands. "I'm off to the club. Kiara?" He extended a hand, which Kiara took with a giggle, allowing him to escort her from the room.

"See ya!" Arika managed excitedly, still bouncing off of every flat surface available as she practically flew down the corridor after them.

Alex, deciding to get up, groaned as he put pressure on his leg, slowly rising from his chair when suddenly, someone else was supporting him. Looking left, he saw Ellen stood there.

"Here to help, Miss Thompson?" He grinned. She rolled her eyes.

"You were sat there looking like a lost puppy." She sounded slightly embarrassed.

"Well, I have been told my puppy face is irresistible!" He chuckles, before gasping as she let go of him for a second, putting all of his weight on his bad leg. "Ah! Alright! I get it! You like to take things slowly! Jesus!" She dropped him again. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Seriously, you gonna keep doing that?"

She smirked. "Depends. Keep that up and I will." Alex gave her a wounded look.

"And here I thought you had good intentions! You're just here to cause pain?" He gave her his best 'I'm so damn adorable' face, eyes wide and face sad. She looked away instantly.

"Stop it. Stop! Alright, I'm here to help." He kept doing the face. "I'll drop you."

He stopped doing the face.

"Seriously though, are you alright?" She sounded concerned. Alex sighed.

"I've been better. I'll be alright though, just a sprained ankle. Back to the team in no time."

She grinned. "Oh, yay. How I anticipate it." Her face turned serious. "Still can't believe Jackson did that."

Alex shrugged. "That's Jackson for ya. Anything to win and all that jazz. Still, it's frustrating. I can't play for three weeks. I can barely even walk properly and all because he didn't trust me with my job. Someday, this is gonna come to a head. Jacky's gonna push me a little too much." She glanced at him.

"Why are you friends with him? Really? After everything he does." She made a good point. Alex had been asking himself that one a lot recently. It got harder to find an answer every day. Jackson was getting worse and worse, allowing grudges to build up and pushing away the only team he had. In the end, not proper Captain material.

"Honestly, Ellen? I don't know. At first, we were rookies. We had a few matches, I went around teams, built up popularity and Jackson became infamous. I guess he slowly became the persona he displayed for everyone else. But the Jackson I knew when I arrived at Rampancy three years back was more laid back, more of a joker. And when I was on another team, we went drinking one time. He was pretty cool back then. Didn't know his stuff, trying to prove himself but generally decent. We hit it off. Now, I ask myself more and more what he's turning into and whether I'll follow him there. Soon, I might quit."

The words were out before he had even thought them, but he realised it was the truth. He _had_been considering moving teams, with Jackson's behaviour.

They had reached the car park, but Ellen looked at him, wide eyed.

"Seriously?! You're considering leaving?" She actually sounded quite upset. Alex grinned.

"Why so upset, Ellie? You gonna miss me?" She punched him on the arm, trying to smile. "But yes, I might leave." Seriously, why was she looking so upset?!

"Oh," was all she said as they climbed into the car. Without a word, she turned the keys and started it up and soon they were heading to the Club Will had told them about. Alex really hoped he wasn't recognized this time.

"Stop me from getting drunk," he begged her, earning him a genuine smile and a laugh.

"You never did say, what happened that one time?" Her voice was both teasing and interested. Alex realised that if he didn't say, Will would. And it would be ten times as embarrassing for him.

Sighing slightly, knowing how brutally teased he was going to be, he began to talk, not realising that for the first time since the match, he was genuinely smiling.


	17. Chapter 16: Coach's Recap

**(A/N) Hey guys, time for…Tuesday's Grifball: Running Rampant update, and yes, I am well aware that this is Wednesday morning, at least for me. (Sorry about that). Went to see Rush last night with my girlfriend, which I'd highly recommend for anyone who is thinking of going to see it. Great performances from both Daniel Bruhl and Chris Helmsworth as Nikki Lauda and James Hunt respectively, and I could see them receiving Oscar nominations! However, I'm drifting, so I'm going to bid you a fond farewell and leave you alone with the latest chapter, written by the fantastic Minaethiel.**

**For those not aware, we're still looking for writers for Agent Carolina in our RvB fic, Phase One: Genesis and its upcoming sequel, so, if you're interested, please PM me ASAP for more details!**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter Sixteen - Coach's Recap**

**Kiara Thomas**

**Written by Minaethiel**

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_"We are all mistaken sometimes; sometimes we do wrong things, things that have bad consequences. But it does not mean we are evil, or that we cannot be trusted ever afterward."_ - Alison Croggon

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There was a conflicting mood after training that day. Rampancy had managed to beat the Siren's in the first friendly of the season, but the cost? Alex. The runner was now out for the count for a while due to Jackson injuring him on the field, and nearly costing the team the game. Alex wasn't speaking to the Rampancy captain now, and Ellen and Arika were pissed too, I could tell. Even now, as we put our unnecessary equipment away, there was a grim silence over the court. Will at least seemed to be more cheerful; his skills had come in handy for the game and had helped Rampancy pull off a clutch victory.

I sighed as I stowed my hammer; I was the only one who hadn't gotten to be on the court yet. A bolt of shame went through me as I realized that at least I had the physical capabilities to play, whereas Alex would be down for quite a bit. Wrenching my helmet off, I shook my slightly damp hair out and started to make my way to the women's locker room. I could tell that the others were anxious to escape the tension too, but Anderson's voice cut across the arena.

"Not so fast, ladies and gentlemen. Before we go our separate ways for the day, I'd like to go over the last game with you all. I've got a list of strengths and weaknesses regarding not just Rampancy, but the Sirens as well. We have a lot to work on between now and the next game. Follow me."

I blinked a couple times, wondering exactly how Coach could just ignore the tension that was palpable between everyone. Jackson was quick to follow, and I hesitantly followed next. Ellen and Arika brought up the rear, and Will was content to follow along at his own pace. Coach led us off to a door that I had seen before, but hadn't bothered asking about. As he opened it, a cool gust of wind rushed out to greet us, and I sighed in relief. Jackson tossed me a look that was part exasperation and part 'are you serious,' to which I gave him a pointed look that dared him to say something. To some extent, I could understand his actions in the game, but that didn't give him an excuse to use Alex as a kind of decoy.

I stepped into the threshold of Coach's secret room and looked around, my mouth forming a curious 'o' shape. The room was darkened, and reminded me of a movie theatre, minus the plush velvet seats and convenient cup holders. Instead there were the odd swivel chairs scattered, and a projector was hanging from the ceiling. A large television screen was on another wall, and Coach watched us all with a blank expression as we entered. As he shut the door, he motioned us towards the seats.

"Pick one, Rampancy."

We quickly obliged, and Will took the seat on the edge. Jackson sat next to him. I glanced at Ellen and Arika, but they had already seated themselves as far away from Jackson as possible. I sighed in exasperation and sat next to Ellen and Jackson. Sure the captain had made a mistake, and he was a complete asshole for throwing Alex to the huntresses, but it wasn't like he was going to bite them. However the tension was still there, and even seemed to get worse if that was possible. Jackson was trying his hardest to be as impassive as he possible could, and Ellen and Arika seemed to be looking everywhere but towards me. Will seemed rather unconcerned, but even he had to be feeling the pressure in the air. However, as the remaining lights flicked off and the screen in front of us lit up, Will clapped his hands.

"So, do we get popcorn for this movie? Maybe some candy? I could go for some liquorice."

I giggled a bit at the sheer cheekiness of my hazel-eyed teammate, and everyone else seemed to be mildly amused as well. Coach shot a firm look at the runner.

"We've got work to do, Weissman."

"All work and no play for you, Ryan."

Coach gave an unamused sigh as a response and hit a button. It was the first round of the game, and I felt deja vu sweep over me as I watched. Everyone was clearly tense in their own way on both teams- a twitch over here, a tightening grip over here-but all of that evaporated as the starting bell sounded. Once again I watched as both Jackson and the Siren tank bull-rushed forwards, and I drew in a breath as Jackson once again leapt up to smash his opponent, but it came crashing down as the Siren tank dodged and slammed him instead. Needless to say, the round went downhill from there. By the end of it, Jackson had gone rigid with tension. Coach paused the video.

"That first round was sloppy. You coordinated well enough, but the execution was lacking. Ellen, as a Defender, it is your job to protect the goal. There should have been no hesitation to chase after the Siren runner. Arika, you did extremely well, but don't take that like you don't need to improve. All of you do in some way. Jackson."

He let the word fall heavily.

"We already discussed your performance the other day, but for the sake of knocking some sense into you, I'll go over it again. You left Alex to fend off the Siren hybrid on his own. Had he not been cornered, he would have been able to help out Ellen chase down the runner while you and Arika fended off the other three players."

He paused and rewound the round back to the beginning, only to play it again.

"The Sirens had impeccable teamwork this first round. A successful spawn bonk brought their runner to the bomb first, and the defender neutralized Alex while the tank and hybrid moved to clear the way while providing support to the runner. The tank made a smart move by not hesitating when Jackson jumped towards her. While he had to recover his swing, she was in the perfect position to safely retaliate against him."

I found myself growing bored, even though it was only the first round he had analysed. I had watched the game myself; I had been able to see every move and every play. Why Coach needed me here I couldn't figure out. Besides, the tense atmosphere had returned, and it was starting to make me uncomfortable. Alex had lucked out in this instance for sure since he didn't need to feel the animosity between Jackson and the rest of the team. Then again, he'd probably add to it.

The next round continued in the same fashion, with Coach pointing out both the flaws and weaknesses of the Sirens and the rest of Rampancy. However it was during the third round that the anger towards Jackson escalated. I was fairly certain that it was the first time Ellen and Arika got to see exactly how Alex had gotten injured. Watching Jackson throw Alex towards the Sirens gave me more feelings of misgiving yet again, especially while being able to hear the chatter between the captain and runner. As the round ended, a grim heaviness had settled over the group, and I fidgeted nervously. Coach gave an exhausted sigh.

"I'm not going to bother telling you all what went wrong in this particular round. Injuries happen in this sport all the damn time, however I will not tolerate injuries caused by selfish actions. If any one of you pulls an action like Jackson demonstrated for us, there will be consequences for you."

He continued the video, and glancing at the team, I could tell that the previous clip had made an impression. Jackson usually looked intense, but now he just looked pissed off and broody. I'd definitely be avoiding him for a bit. Ellen and Arika had shot their own glares at the captain earlier, and now they pointedly focusing on the video. Will looked uncomfortable; and had shot Jackson a reproachful look as he saw what had happened to Alex in even better detail. I shifted uncomfortably. I could understand Jackson being frustrated at losing, but to sacrifice your own teammate was an out of bounds thing to do. What really set me off was that he didn't even seem regretful; just annoyed at being called out. That alone was enough for me to avoid sparing any sympathy for him.

After the third round, time seemed to drag on, and I found myself almost falling asleep. It seemed like we were being worked to the bone now that games were being scheduled regularly. I was used to training a lot before games, but the sheer amount was exhausting, and something that I had yet to get used to. Again I felt my eyelids drooping, and a sharp elbow to my right shoulder made me flinch. I turned to see Jackson shooting me an annoyed glare, and I quickly broke eye contact. Coach was just going over the final round.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this last round was where you proved that Rampancy is a force to be reckoned with. Will, at first you scared the shit out of me when you tossed the Siren runner the bomb, but that follow up with your sword was absolutely brilliant. Jackson, Arika, and Ellen, you supported Will beautifully. While stopping our opponents in their tracks, you also moved well enough to avoid killing them. Granted, you ladies could use some work on your fluidity, but you did damn well for your first game of the season."

I could feel rather than see the pride oozing from my teammates as Coach praised them. I hated the feeling, but I felt jealousy race through me like lightning. Everyone here, even Alex, had proved to be at least acceptable pro players. I was stuck on the side-lines, watching and waiting. Though the interview with Stu had turned out ok, I thought every day about those clips he had fired at me. The crowd's disapproving noises had become a driving point for me. My blood burned with the urge to prove that I could do just as well as Ellen and Arika. More than anything, I wanted to show my family that I was a daughter or sister to be proud of. Despite all of these distracting thoughts, I could still hear Coach going over the final round. Now he was analysing what the Sirens had done wrong.

"The Sirens really fell apart during the last round, ladies and gentlemen. The tank was too focused on Jackson and instead of trying to launch her way past him, attempted to take him down instead. The runner, whom was the only person capable of taking down Will at the time, allowed herself to be swept up by the sight of a loose ball in the air, which allowed Will to get rid of her. The Hybrid and Defender weren't even a factor that Will needed to consider because Ellen and Arika had them cornered so well. Learn from your mistakes and their mistakes, Rampancy. I expect next game to be a much better performance. Now get out of here," he added in a darkly amused tone, "I've got work to do. Except for you, Miss Thomas, I want a word with you."

I felt dread settle slightly in my stomach; had he noticed how I hadn't been as attentive as possible? However he looked me over and nodded his head as the rest of the team filed out.

"Kiara, I'm sure you felt a bit out of place today. You've seen the game twice and you could probably pinpoint at least a few mistakes on your own made by both teams. However I want you to learn from these mistakes so you don't repeat them on the field. With this in mind, I've decided that you are going to be starting next game, Kiara. I have yet to decide the rest of the line-up."

I felt my face light up at his words, and the feeling of dread melted away. I was finally going to prove myself! I had been waiting to play for months, and now I was finally going to get the chance.

"I won't let you down, Coach! Thank you so much!"

He seemed amused at my happiness.

"Don't thank me yet, Thomas. You're going to be working until you drop up to the next game. Now go and enjoy your final hours of freedom."

I nodded and rushed out, the excitement I was feeling lending a new bounce to my step. Will was just leaving the gym and turned at the sound of my rapid approach.

"Geez Kiara, are you training to be a runner now?"

I scoffed in amusement.

"No way I'd try and take your job, Will. Runners seem to have a hazardous occupation."

He didn't need help to figure out what I was referring to.

"No, Will, I get to play next game!" I exclaimed happily. He smirked in amusement at my excitement and gave me an indulgent pat on the back before heading into the men's locker room. As I stowed my armour in my own locker and listened to Arika and Ellen's idle chatter, I found myself obtaining an overwhelming feeling of determination. It was my turn to shine.


	18. Chapter 17: Hot Topic

**(A/N) Hey guys, time for the next Grifball: Running Rampant chapter, coming up slightly late yet again, which really seems to be the trend for this week. Sorry about that! However, I can guarantee that tonight's Phase One: Genesis chapter will be up on time, but I realise the fact that I have to say that says a lot about my punctuality. Anyways, I leave you with our latest chapter, written by the always-amazing TunelessLyric, writer of Arika Myles, and this chapter should definitely get a few laughs out of you all. It certainly got a few out of me! **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen - Hot Topic**

**Arika Myles**

**Written by TunelessLyric**

* * *

_"You are doomed to make choices. That is life's greatest paradox." -_ Wayne Dyer

* * *

Arika dropped her keys on the table just inside her apartment door. She pulled it shut behind her and sighed. Clearly, if she thought Coach was going to ease up on the team after their victory against Siren, the starting Tank had another thing coming. She was hot and sweaty and exhausted. And it was only eleven-thirty.

A flashing red light on a machine across the room drew her attention. Arika wandered over, feet dragging slightly from the training session, and tapped the machine's touchpad. Sound flooded her small living room.

"Hi Arika, this is Chelsea Grandy and I represent FlexCorp. I was wondering if you could meet with me tomorrow so we can discuss your lack of an agent. I would gladly take you on!"

"My name is Shane Glawson. I noticed that you are currently marked as not having an agent and, Arika, I think I'm the perfect choice, call me!"

"Arika Myles, I'm Jenny MacMillian and I want to be your agent, call me at 867-5309 to set up an appointment."

God, there were literally _hundreds_ of comms for her. Suddenly she was the most popular person on the planet. A horrible thought crashed into her, nearly knocking her into the couch. Did she have to meet them _all_?

She grabbed a data-pad and marked down names and numbers as the messages rolled on. By the end she had a very lengthy list of hopefuls. And some were truly awful.

"Keegan Aelick, bet you're wondering who I am, call me back without a flam, I'll help you out of your agent jam!"

Seriously, what in the name of all that is holy is a 'flam'? And why did the jingle have to go to _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_?

"If you want to talk, don't email. And don't you click-click-click-click, just call me up at 555-RICK!"

_Right. Because that was ever going to happen._ Arika picked up the handset for her phone. She stabbed in the number of Ellen. While it rang, she wondered if Coach knew about this.

"Hey, Arika?" Thankfully it was the voice of her teammate that picked up, not the voicemail machine.

"Ellen, did you just get home?" she demanded.

"Yeah, why?" the Defender asked warily.

"You should check your messages, I had about a thousand."

She could hear the raised eyebrow in Ellen's voice as she replied, "I don't think you need to be overly dramatic. Fine. I'll check them. Hold on a sec."

Arika listened to the other woman humming as she walked across her house. She waited for a whole minute as silence came through the line.

"Holy! I have a hundred and sixty-four missed comms," Ellen exclaimed. "What's all this about? Did someone spread a rumour that I'd died? Is it my birthday or something?"

"I told you so," sang Arika, jokingly. "Listen to them. I'll bet anything you want they're the same as mine."

Ellen pushed a button and the floodwaters opened. Just as it had happened to Arika, the Defender had piles of people all begging in their stupid ways to become her agent. "I'll see you tomorrow, I have way too much to do tonight."

They hung up. Almost immediately, the phone in Arika's hand rang again. She winced, it being pressed to her ear yet. With a grimace, she answered it. And hoped for dear life it wasn't another annoying agent calling. "Hello?"

"Arika!"

She sighed with relief at Kiara's voice. "Thank god it's you, I'm guessing you have messages too?"

Kiara informed her that she did indeed have the same dilemma on her hands. "Do I… am I supposed to meet them _all_?"

"I guess so," she replied with a shrug. "I'm sure if you asked, someone will go with you. To help you decide which one is right for you, I mean." Arika didn't say any particular name, but she did have a teammate in mind for the other woman's aide.

"Oh! I'll call right now and see if anyone's busy or not. See you," Kiara chirped before hanging up.

Suddenly Arika was left alone in an abruptly silent apartment. She sank down on her couch, phone still in hand. Well, who could she ask to go with her to meet all these crazy people? She turned the consideration over in her mind. Jackson was definitely out. Even if he was probably the most qualified, there was no humanly possible way for her to convince him to help. Will was likely already being asked by Kiara. She felt caught. On one hand, Alex would be helpful and… entertaining while Coach Anderson would definitely have experience with this type of thing. In the end, she broke down and rang Coach.

Turned out he was more than willing to accompany Arika on her agent scouting mission the next day. Silently praising the single day off in _ever_, she hung up. She set her phone down, flopped onto her small couch and lay there, wondering why she felt as though she had forgotten something vitally important. An instant later, she leaped up, snatched the handset from the cradle and began returning the less stalkerish hopefuls calls to set up appointments for the next day.

By the time she finished that, it was getting late. Arika threw dinner on and ate her meal hurriedly. She fell into bed, exhausted from her long day. Sleep, however, eluded her. The same thoughts swirled in her head, chasing her around and around. Finally, early in the wee hours of the night, Arika snuck up on dreamland with a pitchfork and succumbed.

* * *

Arika checked her watch. Again. Her first appointment was supposed to begin three minutes ago.

"Relax," chided Anderson. Unsurprisingly, he wasn't that much more laid-back out of the Grifball arena. "It isn't a race. These things take time."

She sighed and glanced around. She stared at the same bizarre picture of what appeared to be an orang-utan spear fishing for pigs – whatever that meant – that had occupied her focus for the previous ten minutes. What a weird way to decorate a coffee bar. A tall, thin man with wispy grey hair threaded his way between tables directly under the odd picture.

"Is that him?" she asked. Immediately she regretted saying so. How could Coach know?

It just so happened that the balding man was indeed their first meeting. He sat and puffed out a flustered sigh before extending a hand and saying, "Kerry Lytham, I can't –"

* * *

"– believe I'm actually here to speak with you," gushed yet another agent.

Arika clenched and unclenched her fists under the table. Right now, she wished she could be doing anything, _anything_ else. She would even go for one of Anderson's insane drills now.

"Believe it," she said charmingly. God, her cheeks hurt from all this smiling. Had she actually thought this was going to be fun last night? And there were still more agents to meet with.

"Can you tell me –"

* * *

" – just how you plan on doing that?" inquired Coach.

Mr. Carruthers peeked into a lime green duo-tang before replying, "Well, it's simple, really –"

* * *

" – I want to make you seem more personable," explained Kamal Johnson. He winced, and backtracked quickly. "What I mean is –"

* * *

Arika suppressed a sigh. From the corner of her eye she saw Coach shake his head nearly imperceptibly. How many people had they already met? How many times had they watched a perfectly put together presentation go to pieces in half a second? And, more importantly, how much coffee had she consumed? Maybe that was why her mind continued to wander and why she was pretending she was on a three mile run in full armour.

A smiling woman of Japanese descent sat opposite Arika. By now, she had just accepted the pig-hungry orang-utan as a fact of life. And she had pretty well accepted that she was never leaving this damned coffee bar again. Might as well swear off coffee while she was at it.

"I'm Risa Oum. Nice to meet you, Arika, Mr. Anderson," she greeted coolly. "Now, I'm sure you have some questions about where I come from and what it is that I want to do for you. Go ahead, I'm all ears."

Arika blinked dumbly. Wait, they weren't being forced to sit through yet another _I'm the best because I say so_ speech? Holy crap, sign her up! For a moment she thought about a suitable opening query. "What makes you different from the thirty-four other people we've interviewed?" Better get this over with.

"Well, for starters, I used to represent Jarrett Baic," Risa said off-handedly. "I know just how hard it is to make it in the Grifball world as a woman and, Arika, I was an amateur Grifball player myself eight years ago."

Wow. That was an impressive résumé. Baic was a former member of Hotshot, one of the survivors of the team-wide accident. Oum automatically rose a few important places in Arika's mind.

As the interview wore on, she became more and more open to the idea of this woman becoming her agent. On getting to know her better, Risa was charming, personable and witty. In equal measures, she was spirited and determined.

"Thank you for your time."

As Risa rose, Arika echoed her. She checked her data pad. That was the last appointment. In one word, relief.

"Well," Anderson stretched in his chair, "that was informative."

She nodded, reaching for her last cup of joe. She shuddered. If she never saw another coffee bean, it would be too soon. "What did you think?"

He pondered for a moment. "I can't decide for you, but I do have a few suggestions. First, I think you should have a female represent you. For obvious reasons."

Well, that narrowed the field from thirty-four to eight. Helpful, but still, she was comparing apples to oranges to bananas. A few rotten bananas. "Got it," she said.

"Okay, I also think it best if you chose someone you could stand to see at three in the morning in a thunderstorm after you've totalled your car."

"I don't own a car." Arika raised an eyebrow. Was that really all she had to reply? She must be out of it.

Anderson sighed the sigh of the long-suffering. "You don't now, but give it a season. And the point is, you have to deal with agents when you least want to."

"Oh. I see." She gathered her papers, left a sizeable tip for the exceedingly patient and kind waiter, and stood. She turned back to her coach. "Thanks for coming today, Coach, I mean it. I probably would have pulled my hair out if I had been here by myself."

He slowly parted company with his uncomfortable chair. It took a few steps for him to get upright, particularly around the knees, but when he did, he looked relieved. "In the future, spread 'em out some, okay?"

She smiled. "See you tomorrow."

Arika exited the coffee bar and flagged down a bus back to her apartment. It was going to take some time to go back over the prospective agents' meetings – and decipher her handwriting – but she was confident she would arrive at a decision that evening.

She noted she had missed a comm from her father and resolved to speak to him before bed. Arika sat at her kitchen table and looked at her notes. Eight women. Right off the bat she dismissed five. They had all come across as though they were in it for the money, not to help her. That left three.

Even as she went through the motions, she knew which she was going to pick. Just to make sure, she did as Anderson suggested and pictured herself on the coming off the court after a horrible loss. For a little authenticity she mentally added a broken bone or two. The first agent to pop into the daydream, she decided, was who she could deal with in a real life situation just like this.

"The Commissioner wants to schedule a meeting tomorrow," said Risa. "Should I arrange for before the press conference or after?"

Well, that settled it. Grinning triumphantly, Arika jotted her final decision down. She walked into her bedroom and dialled her house number on the far side of the system to deliver the good news.


	19. Chapter 18: A Change In Plans

**(A/N) So guys, time for our latest Grifball: Running Rampant chapter, brought to you by the fabulous Lili-Hunter, depicting everyone's favourite sexist ass (or least favourite, I guess), Mr Jackson Rothe! Lili, as always, has knocked this one out of the park, and I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I did. Just going to leave it at that, short and sweet, because it's late and I'm sleepy as hell.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen - A Change In Plans**

**Jackson Rothe**

**Written by Lili-Hunter**

* * *

_"Stubborn isn't a word I would use to describe myself; pigheaded is more appropriate." _– Michael Bloomberg

* * *

When Coach Anderson finally blew his whistle, it was with more relief than Jackson was willing to admit that he tugged off his helmet. The Rampancy captain magnetized it to his back, and ran a hand through his hair as he sucked air harshly through his nose. The brown strands, faintly damp, tugged at his fingers and Jackson withdrew them with a wince.

The training session had been absolutely _brutal_. Jackson exhaled, feeling his heart pound against his ribcage, and curled his toes inside his boots. He honestly had no idea whether the sweat pooling inside of them was imagined, or disgustingly real. He decided that he didn't want to know.

Coach blew his whistle again, and gestured with his hand. Rampancy slowly made their way towards him, forming a loose semi-circle. A few of the girls tipped their heads to whisper in each other's ears, or at Will or Alex, but no one attempted to speak to their captain. Jackson wasn't sure if he preferred it like that.

Though, preference or not, it grated against his nerves. The tension between him and the rest of the team had been bad enough, ever since their first "friendly" game against Team Siren. No matter what Coach had said, Jackson knew that he'd pretty much carried the team throughout that match. Will had helped, a little, but without their captain, Rampancy would have been smashed.

But the facts didn't stop them all from wanting to beat his head in, especially once they'd found out _exactly_ how Alex had sprained his ankle. '_Jackson is an asshole' _had been the general consensus. And now that Alex was back in training… well, Jackson had been waiting for the real show to start at any moment. So far, though, he'd simply ignored his captain's very presence, avoided him at all costs, and sent nearly tangible waves of simmering aggression his way.

In short, Alex was acting like an emotional teenage girl, and Jackson was getting pretty fucking sick of it.

"Alright, everyone, listen up," Coach began. Jackson shifted, his attention returning to his grey-haired superior. "Our next opponents have been announced."

Will unfolded his arms, leaning forward eagerly. "Who?" he asked.

"Team Paladin," Coach informed him. "We'll be playing against them at the end of the week."

Jackson snorted, but luckily caught himself before the noise turned into a full-blown laugh. "Them? _Really?_" Paladin had finished the previous season with an embarrassingly low ranking, and was a worse team than even Slipspace had been, back in the day before corporate sponsorship had revolutionised their team. Rampancy may as well have not bothered to train at all for the upcoming match – hell, it would've given Paladin _at least_ a fighting chance.

He could imagine the general chaos at their stadium, even now. Probably watching tapes of their game against Siren, desperately trying to find a chink in their armour and failing. With Jackson on the field, there was no chink. He smirked at the thought, and thought that the Paladin players were probably crushed under the weight of their own despair at having Rampancy as an opponent. As they should be – Jackson's team was fucking _awesome_.

Well, half of it was, at least.

"Yes, Team Paladin," Coach confirmed. Will and Jackson exchanged grins – this would almost be too easy. But Coach Anderson's eyes were grim and determined, and Jackson wondered if there was something he hadn't told them yet. Maybe Paladin got a new player; one that was twice their height and triple their muscle mass. Because that was the only reason why Coach would possibly look like he was steeling himself for something. It was usually the expression he wore when he and Jackson are building up to a screaming match, which was weird. Jackson, despite the fact that his best friend was acting like a prissy little girl, wasn't _that _angry. Hell, with the endorphins streaking through his veins after their harsh training session, he was feeling pretty damn good.

"I know what you're all thinking; that you don't need to train so much, that you'll be fine because they're ranked lower than you, and that they're an easy win," Coach said, matching Jackson's thoughts almost word-for-word. The captain shrugged, a little unnerved that the Coach knew him so well. He wasn't _that_ see-through, surely. "But that's no excuse," Coach Anderson told them firmly. "They may have ended last season poorly, but that's no guarantee that they can't sweep us off the board now. In fact, I'll be expecting you all to work _twice_ as hard over the next couple of days. Except for you, Alex, as your ankle is still healing."

Jackson could feel the tips of his ears turn dark red, as someone beside him muttered angrily. It was probably Al, but the girls were almost as pissed about it as he was. Will was a little more indifferent – though he didn't hold back on telling Jackson that it was a dick move and that he should be ashamed of himself, Will had known him for long enough that he wasn't entirely surprised. Jackson's done far worse, to far better people, for far less.

Alex knew it too, of course, but Jackson guessed that he just never thought that that same thing might happen to him.

"So, who's in the line-up?" Arika prompted the Coach, hiding the disappointment in her voice. She knew just as well as Jackson did that it wouldn't include her. Coach had already promised Kiara a spot, which meant that Arika – as their other Tank – was on the bench. Since Alex's ankle was "still healing", that left Ellen, Will, and Jackson to play. The Rampancy captain started to turn and open his mouth, when Coach Anderson interrupted him.

"It was a hard decision," he began, and Jackson rolls his eyes. _Bullshit_. If he could work it out after an offhand comment by Will during their third suicide run, then Coach had probably had the line-up ready since the beginning of the week. "But I've decided to go with Kiara, Will, Ellen" – Jackson ticked them off mentally, nodding grudgingly – "and you, Arika."

The black-haired Tank made a small sound of delight before her composure returned, though she didn't hide the ecstatic grin.

Jackson snorted, crossing his arms over his chest again. Coach Anderson's sense of humour was fucked up, he'd give him that, and the captain almost regretted having to shoot down his female teammate. "Right," he said flatly, rolling his eyes. "Don't be a dick, Coach. We both know I'll be on the field."

Slowly, Coach raised an eyebrow. "Oh, do we?" he asked, as sarcastically as he could manage. Jackson spread his hands in '_Duh, I'm your best player_' kind of shrug.

Beside him, Will shifted awkwardly, uncomfortable with the ratcheting tension. Despite his easy-going exterior, Jackson knew that the guy was more sensitive than most skin-care products. Jackson was sure that he was still emotionally scarred from having witnessed just one of his and Coach's enthusiastic showdowns.

But this time, Coach didn't seem interested in participating. He fixed the Rampancy captain with a flat stare, crossing his muscled arms. "Jackson. You're sitting this one out. End of discussion."

Well, fuck _that_.

Coach was a pretty tall guy, just over six feet, and equal – if not taller – with Jackson himself. But that was when he was out of armour. Now, still clad in his blue and steel training armour, his metal boots gave him an added inch or two. As a tight, choking sphere came to settle behind his collarbone, Jackson drew himself to his full height, straightening his spine until he could tower over Coach Anderson. Their gazes locked, and he could see that Coach knew he wouldn't back down easily. His heart thumped once, angrily, in his chest; his blood practically boiling, and Jackson's nostrils flared as he damn near growled.

"I'm. Playing."

"No, Jackson, you're not. I've placed you on the bench, and that's where you're gonna stay until _I _decide otherwise." Coach's words were firm, despite the fact that they were forced from a tightly clenched jaw. His eyes flashed with something unreadable, and Jackson's fists curled almost subconsciously.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say, Coach," he sneered, matching his glare. If staring him down was what he had to do to get into the line-up, then he'd bloody well do it. "I'm your best damn player, especially with Alex taken out! You need me," Jackson finished triumphantly, stabbing his own chest with one finger.

"Actually, Jackson, you're quickly becoming our worst liability." The captain practically felt Will wince, and was pretty sure that at least some of the girls – and Alex, for damn sure – were grinning. "You're disrespectful, refuse to cooperate, and you took out one of the best assets of this team, and yet don't seem to regret a damn thing. Am I wrong?"

Well… no. But Jackson leant back a little, scowling. "Really? You're _still_ upset over what I did to Alex? News flash: it worked! We scored. Tell me what the _hell _is so wrong with that."

On cue, roughly two-thirds of the people surrounded him began to speak at once. Luckily, Coach cut them off with a gesture, assessing Jackson carefully. The captain rolled his eyes, and Coach Anderson seemed to decide that another strategy would probably be more successful.

"Jackson," he began slowly, "you know that it's better to blood these girls in a friendly match." The Hybrid began to speak, but Coach bulldozed over the top of him with a raised eyebrow. "You'd _really_ rather see them on the field for the first time during a league match? Even you have to know that that's unwise."

"They could still lose against Paladin," Jackson countered. "How are our stats gonna look after _that_, huh?"

"You'd rather lose a ranking?" Coach asked, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his receding hairline.

Jackson huffed. From that point of view… it was _almost_ logical. Still, he wasn't dropping it just yet. "Without me, or Alex, they're screwed," he said firmly.

"Oh, yeah? What am I – a wet paper towel?" Will spluttered indignantly. "Despite what you may think, I'm not just a pretty face."

Jackson exhaled sharply. "That's not what I meant," he snapped angrily. "But-"

"Exactly!" Coach declared, grinning triumphantly. "If you really think that these ladies can't handle themselves without at least two male back-ups, then let this be the chance for them to prove you wrong."

"I don't need proof, Coach. It's scientific fa-"

"No, it's _not_!" The outburst came from Arika, whom stared at Jackson with angered, unflinching brown eyes. "We're just as good as you are. You've got no 'proof' of anything that says otherwise!"

Jackson returned her gaze steadily. "In a straight fight," he said coldly, "just you and me… do you really think you'd win?"

Arika flushed, but didn't break his gaze. He smirked – just as he'd thought.

_Men had always been, and would always be, the stronger gender._

"Enough." Coach ran a hand tiredly over his face, almost mumbling the words before he returned with a flat stare. "Jackson, after what happened during the game against Siren… to be frank, I just can't trust you with the safety of my team."

"Coach," he groaned, frustrated. "I didn't even kill him! A couple of bruises are _nothing_."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," he said firmly. "A few more "nothings", Mr. Rothe, and we won't have a line-up at all!"

Jackson swallowed another complaint. This was just stupid. Coach was being an idiot. "Let's not pretend, Coach," he growled. "You're punishing me."

"You're damn right I'm punishing you!" Coach yelled, stepping forward and gesturing sharply. "Attacking your own teammate… that's not okay. You need to learn, Jackson. Hell, a little humility would do you some good."

"Fine." Jackson stepped back, throwing his hands in the air. "_Fine_. You'll see, Coach." Before he turned around, the Hybrid thought of one more question. "Who the hell's gonna act as captain, then?"

_Don't you _dare_ say Arika_, he added silently. She'd already taken his spot on the line-up – he'd be damned if he let her take his captain's badge, too.

"Will," Coach answered, glancing at the man in question. "He'll be in charge."

There was one, long moment as pure glee shone from the Runner's face. He beamed, bouncing twice on the balls of his feet, and pretended to wipe away a solitary tear as he choked out, "This… this is such an honour. I'd like to thank myself, for being so stunningly handsome. Also, Ryan, for believing in me…. And Jackson, for being an ass-hat so that I could take his place." He threw his hands up into the air, and bowed, muttering, "Thank you, thank you," as he pretended to catch bouquets. Kiara put a hand over her mouth, giggling at the display.

Jackson grunted, choosing to ignore Will as he attempted to brush off the fury shaking his limbs. He should feel grateful that Will was acting as captain... at least it was someone he trusted. Jackson forced himself to breathe, shoving the anger deep down inside of his chest. _Will would do fine_, he thought slowly. It was only one game, after all.

It wasn't ideal… but it was a hell of a lot better than he'd feared.


	20. Chapter 19: Why Walk When You Can Run?

**(A/N) Hey guys, time for the latest, slightly late, update for Grifball: Running Rampant! Unfortunately, ParabolaOfMystery, Will's writer, whose update was scheduled to go up today, is no longer writing with us, so we're moving ahead. Regardless, this chapter makes up for any possible disappointment you might be feeling, as Wednesday really brought her A-game to this! For those that didn't hear, the artwork of Jerem6401, one of the writers within our collaboration, was mentioned in the recent GTA V Online Let's Play, causing me to scream like a little girl for around five minutes. Not my finest moment, I will concede. So without further ado, I'm going to let you guys go ahead and read this, as Rampancy enter their second friendly game of the season, against Team Paladin. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen - Why Walk When You Can Run?**

**Ellen Thompson**

**Written by WednesdayA 3567**

* * *

_"The healthiest competition occurs when average people win by putting above average effort." _- Colin Powell

* * *

"-God, this armour just doesn't look right. I mean, I've gotten so used to the red sets in training, the thought never even occurred to me that our away armour would be blue. Though, of course, that makes total sense. I knew what the team colours were. I mean, duh, right? I don't know why-"

"Oi! Kiara! Calm down and shut up, would'ya?" Ellen interrupted before she ran out of breath.

Arika chimed in, too. "Yeah, really. You'd think the world was about to end with how fast you're talking."

Ellen turned to Arika and said with a smile, "I thought she might hyperventilate there for a second." Arika laughed, and Kiara blushed a little but laughed with her.

"Sorry. It's just... my first game. You know." She gave them a one shouldered shrug and a nervous smile before snapping her helmet in place. "You guys've already gotten over the first-game-nerves." Ellen slung her gravity hammer over her shoulder and magnetized it to her back in one smooth motion before looking back up at Kiara.

"Just stay calm and keep your head on a swivel." She and Arika snapped their helmets into place. "Watch your sensors." The three girls walked out of the locker rooms and towards Coach and the guys. "Keep moving. You'll be great, I promise." They stopped in front of Coach and could hear Will talking over last minute tactics with him. "Paladin's gonna be easy to beat."

Coach Anderson looked up from his own conversation when he heard Ellen's last sentence. He shook his head slightly. "Come on now, you don't know that. You've gotta give this - and every game, for that matter - your all. It doesn't matter who we're playing, you still work hard for every win. Don't get over-confident, ladies." Ellen took a tiny subconscious step back and gave Coach a small nod in acknowledgement. The rest of the team quieted down as he spoke. Jackson glared at the ground, arms crossed. Coach glanced his way before giving an almost imperceptible shrug and speaking to the team again.

"Okay, everyone. I'll admit, I'm fairly confident that we can win this easily." Ellen felt a smug smile on her face no one else could see. "But we have to remember the difference between confidence and arrogance. Confidence could help us soar to the top while arrogance could end us. Alright? That being said, I want you to do your very best. This is another chance to show the League that Rampancy is just as good, if not better, as we were before the changes."

Jackson snorted as he sank lower on the bench, like a bored teenager. Coach lowered his head slightly and took a deep breath. Ellen could see he had just about reached the end of his temper with Jackson, and she certainly couldn't blame him for it. He looked back up, his jaw visibly tensed. "Rothe," he barked, "something to say?"

Jackson whipped his head back angrily and Ellen could feel his glare even when it wasn't directed at her. He spoke harshly. "Nothing but the usual, _Coach_." Most of the team ignored him, per usual, and Anderson told him to shut up.

Coach sighed again and put up his hands, calling back the team's attention. "Just do your best and win, okay? Okay. The game'll start in a few minutes. Will, the power's in your hands today."

Will nodded and sat down next to Jackson, speaking quietly and almost angrily with him. Kiara started doing some stretches. Arika took her energy sword from her hip and, somewhat nervously, began activating and deactivating it over and over. Ellen thought that might be a good way to break it. She herself scoped the crowd.

There were a few different camera crews scattered throughout the orange-clad Grifball fans. Ellen smiled when she saw a large section wearing Rampancy blue. Her smile grew when she saw about half of their cheering section were women. A few people had different sorts of noise makers, and had already started a war between Paladin's and Rampancy's supporters; effectively filling the stadium with a deafening cacophony of air horns and thunder sticks. Ellen turned back around to watch the referee as he pulled the whistle over his neck. Will stood up, Kiara stood still, and Arika deactivated her sword one last time before reattaching it to her hip. They all looked toward the black and white clad conciliator, waiting. The air itself felt tense as the crowd quieted down as well.

The team walked forward to take their place next to one another. Ellen double checked that her radio, but not her speaker, was on. Will muttered to them through his own radio. "Okay, let's start it off interesting with a Spawn Bonk. Ellen, you're one; Kiara and Arika, two and four; and I'll be number three. Sync?"

"Sync," they all replied simultaneously. They noticed Paladin speaking quietly across the stadium. Will nodded to the referee, indicating Rampancy is ready. Paladin did the same.

The stadium went absolutely quiet. Even the crowd became silent as the referee raised both his arms. Ellen heard Jackson shift on the bench behind her. She braced her leg muscles and looked toward the pad in the middle of the floor where the ball would soon appear.

Ellen heard the whistle, saw the bomb burst into existence, felt her feet nearly fly across the floor, and watched Paladin literally trip over their own feet. She heard Will shout, "**Now!**" Ellen looked up for a split second to see him fly over her and land a little ahead of her, ready to run. She casually sliced her sword across Paladin's Tank - who had been fumbling to get a hold of his gravity hammer - and sprinted to catch up with Will. She smiled as she realized Kiara and Arika had performed the perfect Spawn Bonk; Will was running faster than ever as he scooped up the bomb in one simple movement.

Ellen glanced Kiara excitedly and easily dispatching one of Paladin's Hybrids with her gravity hammer. She grinned and turned to see Arika dodging the clumsy Tank, now respawned, and slashing the back of his knees with her sword. She spun around again to watch Will easily toss the bomb onto the pad as Paladin struggled to understand what had happened.

First point scored in less than three minutes. "Booyah, baby!" Ellen shouted to no one in particular. Will waved them all over to their side of the stadium, and Kiara was just about skipping with excitement.

Ellen could hear the grin in Will's voice as he gave them all high fives and said, "Sheesh, that was amazing! I almost feel bad for them now!" Ellen de-polarized her visor and raised her eyebrows at him. He cleared his own visor to show her his defensive face. "What?! I said _almost_, alright? Okay, next round. They seemed really unsure what to do when we launched, so let's try the inside/outside launch this time. Arika and Ellen, you guys can launch Kiara and I forward and we'll see how it goes from there. That good with you all?"

They all smiled and nodded. "Sync?"

"Sync."

They all lined up again, but not to silence this time. Ellen was well aware of the crowd's cheers and yells all around her. Will gave the ref a thumbs up and Paladin's captain gave a grim nod. There was the whistle, and the crowd went wild.

Will and Kiara set their stances as Arika and Ellen backed up a tad. Will looked to either side of him to nod at the girls, and Ellen looked at Arika. Arika looked ready and sure of herself; she'd practiced this launch more than enough times to do it well. With a jolt, Ellen realized she had never used this particular launch in training before. '_Aw, crap...'_ Ellen thought as Arika began to lower her gravity hammer, and Ellen followed her motions. Ellen saw that she was a split second too late as Arika's hammer hit the ground first. Granted, Ellen was just barely late, but the inside/outside launch needed to be in perfect sync to work.

Will went flying to the left from the impact of Arika's gravity hammer, as Kiara went flying to the right from Ellen's later impact. Ellen cursed under her breath as she activated her sword and took off towards the center of the court, Arika right behind her.

"**What the hell was that?!**" Arika yelled.

"You know I've never done that launch before!" Ellen turned to see Will and Kiara flash back to the respawn point as Paladin was full-on rushing towards the bomb. "Keep 'em off my back, okay?" she called to Arika.

"**What're you going to do?"** Ellen didn't answer, but put on another burst of speed. She shook her head slightly, as though shaking the past minute's failure from herself.

She ducked and rolled past Paladin's Tank, not even taking the time to score the kill as he lost his balance. Keeping low to the ground to avoid the wild swords swinging at her, Ellen scooped up the bomb. She looked down at her arms and legs that had suddenly turned a bright orange.

Her radio crackled, and it was Jackson's strained voice that came through. She saw out of the corner of her eye that he had stood up, and he looked incredibly anxious. "**Listen, to me, okay? Will's too far back; he doesn't have a chance. Take it slow, but you need to-"**

"Rothe! We've already got the lead, why is this point suddenly so-" she leaped out of the way of a swinging gravity hammer and rolled to the side, "-damn important?"

"**Every single point is important, Thompson. Don't get over confident. **_**You**_** have to score this point. Their Hybrid's clueless and has a weak left side. Take advantage of that.**" He paused, thinking, while Ellen painstakingly worked her way towards the goal. She now saw Kiara out of the corner of her eye. "**If you don't screw this up, it's a truce.…mostly. Ish. Alright?**"

Ellen didn't answer with words. Instead, she looked around. She spotted the clueless Hybrid that Jackson had mentioned guarding the goal. He was a giant hulk of a guy, and had his feet planted as Arika danced lightly around him. He spread his boots with loud clangs on the floor as he raised his hammer over his head. Ellen smirked behind her helmet.

"You said that last time. But don't worry; I got this." She sprinted towards them as Arika basically teased the Hybrid. Ellen waited for her opening. Arika took a few steps back from her friend the Hulk. That's when Ellen put on a great burst of speed and skill. As she came right in front of the Hybrid, she dropped down onto her side and slid smoothly under his legs and towards the goal.

Ellen managed to score an extra bonus at the same time, only due to pure luck. His gravity hammer came down right as she was back on her feet and beginning to run again. She caught the edge of the shockwave perfectly, giving her an extra launch.

She was mere feet from the goal pad, so she threw the bomb. As the explosion went off, so did the crowd. Ellen flung her hands in the air as she caught her breath, a giant grin beneath her back-to-blue helmet. She closed her eyes, breathing heavily from the sudden adrenaline rush and the sprint. She brought her hands down to her knees and opened her eyes to find Will standing right in front of her.

Her eyes widened and she did a comical double-take. "Will?! What- but I thought- you were- were you behind me the entire time?!"

"Oh, indeed I was, Miss Ellie," he said with a wide smile, "and that was one fine piece of running. Didn't know you had it in you."

"Pure luck, yes it was." Will laughed a little and began jogging back to the starting point for the next round. Without turning around, he waved Ellen forward to follow him back to their side.

The game was incredibly smooth from that point on. They'd only scored two points, but they'd already proven early in the game to both Paladin and the crowd that they could easily come out on top. Now, that isn't to say they didn't have to work hard. It's more like… from then on Rampancy was more of a team.

There was one small scare in the fourth round when Arika - who was guarding Will at the time - caught the edge of a gravity hammer. That left Will to simply try to outrun Paladin, which failed only because he was outnumbered at the moment. Ellen would never admit it, but she probably could have caught Paladin's Runner before he made it if she'd been more responsive. She hadn't been expecting them to make a move, meaning he made it past her. Also meaning Paladin scored a point. She was sure Jackson would point it out sometime in the future, though.

Will and Kiara pulled off a fantastic launch that scored them the last point of the game. It was just a simple mid-action launch, but it was timed and positioned perfectly. Will only came a foot or two off of the ground, and he flew fast enough to catch Paladin off-guard. He slid to a stop right in front of the goal and simply dropped the bomb into the goal. He didn't even have to toss it.

Ellen grinned at the amazing feeling of achievement the crowd's cheers gave her. Not even Jackson's ever present glare (although admittedly a little less caveman-like since Ellen scored) could dampen her spirits. She and the rest of the team took off their helmets for some fresh air, and she saw matching triumphant grins on each of their faces. She gave the girls hugs, and Will a high five.

Ellen felt her face would crack with her smile when she spotted Alex emerging from the crazy crowd. It was different seeing him in just a t-shirt and shorts, rather than his usual armor. His hurt ankle was wrapped, and he wore a flip-flop on that foot instead of a sneaker. Despite the slight limp, Alex made his way out to the team rather quickly and he was smiling wildly as though he himself had scored the winning point. He practically skipped up to Ellen and gave her one of his one-armed hugs.

"Ellie! That second point! Oh my god; I never knew you made such a good Runner! I can't believe you pulled that off! You just know that's going to be tomorrow's headline," he said excitedly. He had to practically yell to be heard over the crowd. Ellen loved how excited he was; she got caught up in it too.

She gave him a quick friendly kiss on the cheek, pulled back and replied, "Thanks! It was definitely a great game, huh? We missed you out there, though!" He smiled, a slight blush on his cheeks that her kiss left behind, gave her a high five, and turned to congratulate the rest of the team.

Ellen smiled contentedly to herself as she watched her team. Kiara was so excited and amazed; first professional games did that to you. Arika seemed triumphant; either with the game itself or her individual actions Ellen didn't know. Will made a better team captain than Ellen expected, and now his smile was proud and smug as he recapped their best moments of the day to anyone who would listen. Poor Coach had been dragged over in front of a TV camera, but he didn't look too sore about it. Being interviewed about your team's win probably isn't the most humbling thing on earth. One could have even seen a smile almost twitching at the corners of Jackson's lips.

Ellen just laughed to herself - out of joy, the adrenaline rush, triumph, or slight insanity, she couldn't tell you - as she surveyed her Grifball family.


	21. Chapter 20: New Signings

**(A/N) Hey guys, time for the latest update in the Grifball: Running Rampant saga, and with it comes some important news, hidden within the plot of the chapter. Hint, the title is a bit of an indicator! Also, hope you all saw the latest episode of Red vs Blue, and, like me, thought it was incredible. Strangely it wasn't the end that stole the show for me, but the beginning, and if you have seen it then you'll know what I mean, even if you don't necessarily agree with me! Finally looks like we're getting somewhere with the plot! Anyway, I've gone off on a bit of a tangent there! Here, without further ado, is the new chapter!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty – New Signings**

**Coach Anderson**

**Written by NicKenny**

* * *

"_Sometimes talking to you is like talking to myself: pretty damned annoying." _― Richelle Mead, _Last Sacrifice_

* * *

Coach Anderson walked into an empty meeting room, his team following behind him, sitting down around the table after a small gesture on his part, the coach then making his way to the head of the table and taking his own seat, his expression serious and unforgiving.

"You've beaten both Siren and Paladin now, and you have a lot to be proud of, but I don't want that getting to your heads. Neither team can even compare to what you'll be going up against when the season starts, as Alex, Will and Jackson can tell you."

He noticed the Jackson's smirk at these words, no doubt directed at his lack of belief in his female teammates, and their ability to comprehend the sort of talent that our opposition has when the league began. Then again, maybe, in this one instance, Anderson could agree with him. The girls had never faces the likes of Maverick, Castle, Majestic or Slipspace. They couldn't possibly imagine, particularly after emerging as victors in their past two games, how difficult some of their matches were going to be.

But it was his job to educate them.

"Paladin will, in all probability, be struggling in a relegation battle yet again this year. Siren consisted of a team of newly signed players from the amateur leagues, no matter if they were some of the best players those leagues had to offer. If you go up against Majestic or Slipsace, expecting to meet a similar level of opposition, you're going to be brought crashing back to earth. Hard."

He could see the amused disbelief on the faces of the three girls, each attentive and respectfully listening to him, but he could see that they didn't really believe him. How could they? They hadn't suffered a _real _setback in their time at Rampancy, Alex's ankle injury notwithstanding.

"I know you have trouble believing me, but I've coached at the very highest level for a good few years now, and even if you don't believe me, I hope that you'll trust me on this. You need to work hard. You _all _need to work harder. The next time we go up against a team like Paladin, I don't want us to just beat them; I want us to _annihilate _them. We need to let people know that Rampancy are a team to be feared this year."

He could see them beginning to grow restless, and reflected on how quickly a team could let a few victories, and friendly victories at that, go to their heads. With the added problem of the current divide between Alex and Jackson, the two former friends barely speaking to one another ever since Alex's injury, except when absolutely necessary, Anderson knew that they were going to be hard pressed to get a result out of the first game where they came up against decent opposition.

His next announcement wasn't going to make this task any easier.

"With the new season coming up, and the fact that we've already suffered an injury in the pre-season, no matter how minor, Mr Sadler has advised our Director of Grifball, Mr Clark Knight (I'm sure you meant him at some point when your own contracts were being negotiated), to start looking into signing two or three new players as cover in the event of injuries. However, at my urging, he looked into a small shortlist I had been compiling, going for players with enough potential to challenge you for your positions, rather than merely signing benchwarmers."

When he finally stopped speaking, there was a brief moment of silence before the table erupted all at once, outright fury on the faces of some (Jackson), confusion on the faces of the others. After waiting for the torrent of noise to abate, which it eventually did, I looked at Will, who seemed to have been the most vocal in his confusion, and nodded to him, signalling for him to voice his question.

"We already have a six-man squad," he said, a snort being issued by Jackson at the word "man", causing Will to roll his eyes in reply, and the rest of the people in the room to stiffen, their eyes narrowing. "Do we really need any more?"

The coach sighed, running his hand through his hair (what little he had at this point anyway, damn male-pattern baldness) and shook his head. "I know it's been our policy in the past to assign each player a secondary position, which they can then cover should an injury occur, but as Mr Sadler informed me, 'Grifball is changing, and Rampancy must change too if it's to keep with the times'. Apparently this is how he means to do so."

"Does this mean we're being replaced?" Kiara asked nervously from the far side of the table, her fingers tapping absent-mindedly against the table's metal surface, clearly ill-at-ease with the news.

Anderson shook his head fervently. "Of course not! These players have all been singed from the amateur leagues, so you won't have to worry whether or not they have more experience than you. If you continue to put in the same level of tenacity and determination that you have up to this point, your places will be safe. You have to look at this positively. Since some of you were our sole players in your particular roles, this should be seen as a chance to better yourself through competition, not an attack on our part on your abilities."

There was another moments silence before Jackson finally spoke up, seeing through his coach's smoke-and-mirrors façade to the heart of the matter. "So, who are they?" he asked tiredly, knowing full well that no matter what answer Anderson had for him, it wouldn't make him happy.

"I'm sorry?" the coach replied, clearly trying to feign confusion at Jackson's question, but his face betrayed his guilt.

"Obviously, the only reason why you'd bring this to us is if they're already in talks with the club, right? After all, there's generally not a lot of paperwork to get through when signing people from the amateur leagues, which is why I assume we're doing this, right, given that the transfer window shuts in a couple of weeks," he stated quietly, his eyes staring down at the table in front of him, not looking up at the coach.

Anderson sagged slightly, sighed, and nodded slowly. "Yes, the clubs have entered talks with a few players. Three, to be exact. Sophie Rush, a Runner, Jamie Evans, a Hybrid and Jason Ayante, a Defender. All of them did pretty well in the amateur leagues last year, I'm sure some of the girls probably came across one or two of them in the past."

He could see Arika and Ellen nodding, while Kiara seemed to perk up slightly at the fact that none of the three new players played as a Tank, meaning that she shouldn't have to suffer much more competition for a place on the team. Jackson, however, looked furious, just as Anderson had known he would be.

"Another female player?" he replied, managing to keep his voice calm, but there was no hiding the rage behind it.

The coach nodded, seeing that it was wise not to mention the fact that Jamie Evans was actually a girl too, thinking that it was probably better for Jackson to take this in small pieces for the time being. "Miss Rush was one of the highest scoring runners in her division last year. She should do well at Rampancy, with Alex and Will here to learn from."

Jackson seemed to calm down slightly at this, no doubt remembering that his two male teammates both shared that position, making the likelihood of Rampancy ever having to call on Sophie Rush negligible, barring the odd substitution or friendly games. It seemed as though he had decided that he could live with that.

Anderson sighed with relief internally, although he refrained from allowing any of this show up in his features, determined not to let Jackson ruin yet another team meeting. Yet again he wondered why he hadn't requested that Jackson hand in a transfer request, he had the pull in Rampancy to get it done, and it would make his life a hell of a lot easier.

_Because he had the drive, _he thought to himself, going through this mental conflict for what must have been the hundredth time. _Because, at the end of the day, he reminds you of how _you _used to have been. Alex and Will might be great players, but they don't live for each game like Jackson does. It's too early to see if any of the girls do, but it's unlikely, as players like that are one in a thousand._

Perhaps he was being foolishly sentimental, and he was fully aware that, one day, his faith in Jackson would rear up and bite him in the ass, but if he wasn't able to hold out for Jackson, then ultimately what was the point. In Jackson he saw everything he had once been, regardless of their different positions and playing styles – that didn't matter – Jackson had the _drive_, and the coach could no more have allowed Jackson to leave Rampancy than he would have allowed his right arm to be cut off.

"They'll be arriving for their medicals over the next few days. You are to be polite and friendly, because, like it or not, they're going to be your teammates from the foreseeable future. Half of you were in their shoes only a while back, remember how it felt. Be helpful."

With that, he motioned for the team to go, and they all go up, some grudgingly, evidently not entirely satisfied with this sudden splurge of information, having settled into the current team dynamic, and despite the whole Jackson situation, not entirely happy at having it upturned.

"Jackson, stay for a minute, I want to talk to you," he ordered, as Jackson made his way to the door, earning a brief "Oooh" from Will until it was silenced by one of Jackson's death-glares.

"Yes, Coach?" he asked, after the others had vacated the room, the now ever-present scowl settling over his face, darkening his features. "What is it?"

"I need you to _try _to be a leader to these new players, ok? This is your chance to start off with a clean slate, and maybe it won't be as colossal a fuck-up as it was with Ellen, Arika and Kiara," Anderson replied, frowning.

"I'll do better, Coach, I promise," Jackson replied after a moment, but his coach was taken aback by the sincerity in his voice, until he continued on. "I'll just be one-third as bad."

With that he turned and left the room, and the coach was forced to sigh, take a seat and place his head in his hands, wondering what on earth he had done to deserve this in his previous life. He just hoped the new signings would be able to adapt to Rampancy's atmosphere. Maybe a miracle would occur, and Jackson would finally cease being such a tremendous pain in the ass, but then again, maybe pigs would fly, and he'd be able to go back in time and become a Grifball pundit, instead of a coach. Those guys had it so much better.

God, the shit he went through for this sport.


	22. Chapter 21: Welcome to the Big Time

**(A/N) Hey guys, sorry this is going up late, had work this morning and that kept me from getting this up! However, we've finally got this up, and here it is! We meet four new POV characters, starting off with the fantastic Baldore, and his character, the reporter Desmond Danhar! Also, we'll finally get to see Rampancy's three new players in the flesh, so to speak, with their own POV's coming up very soon! Hope you all enjoy this one, and a big welcome to Baldore as part of the Grifball: Running Rampant writing team!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One – Welcome to the Big Time**

**Desmond Danhar**

**Written by Baldore**

* * *

"_I believe in equality for everyone, except reporters and photographers." _― Mahatma Gandhi

* * *

Desmond checked his watch for what seemed like the millionth time. He had already been running late and the stupid line into the conference was not helping. He quickly tried to straighten out his messy brown hair and signature Grifball jacket to presentable levels but still failed, and he sighed once more at having to wait in the line. Seriously, it wasn't even a game, it was a conference so why was there this much security? No one was going to break in!

As the line crept forward a little more, the Imperial March blared from Desmond's phone, signalling a call his partner, Sam Winters. He groaned to himself and flipped his phone out, ready to be chewed out.

**"And just where the HECK are you, Dez?"** Sam's voice cut angrily through the phone. **"Anderson is about to start and you're nowhere to be seen!"**

If there was one thing that Sam was a stickler on and that Desmond was absolutely horrible with, was punctuality (not that he didn't try). So why boos-man had paired them together, Desmond would never know.

"Ummm, yeah." The line inched forward a little so now the elderly guard working the security waved him up. "I'm almost in, save me a spot, please."

"Excuse me, sir, but I need your identification and press pass or you'll have to leave," the guard explained irritably, making the reporter realize that he was holding up the line and he snapped his phone shut with an audible click.

"Got 'em both right here." Desmond produced the two documents triumphantly. The guard took them with an eye roll and the reporter started walking again.

"Hold on a second, Mr Danhar. . ." The guard tapped him on the shoulder. "I'm sorry but your press pass is for a 'Sam Winters'."

"Oh, that's my partner, she's already inside," Desmond quickly explained, "Listen, can we please work this out afterwards? I'm already running behind and I don't want to completely miss the conference."

"Sorry, no can do, kid. I'll call security and we should get it worked out in...say ten minutes or so. Maybe more." He unclipped his radio. "I'd go check it out myself but I'm effectively not allowed to leave my post."

"Look, I really don't have the time for that!" Desmond pleaded but received only a peeved glare in return. Desmond groaned before getting an idea, one best described as a 'half-baked, stupid suicide plan'...well actually that was a little dramatic but it could turn out badly. As in, _being fired _badly, seeing as security generally don't like it when you attempt sneak in to a restricted press conference. But he didn't have a better idea.

"Good Ghandi, did you see that?!" He exclaimed pointing over the guards shoulder.

"C'mon, kid. I wasn't born yesterday. Did you really think that I would fall for that?"

"No, seriously. There's a man right there holding a camera, and trying to jimmy the window lock to get in." Desmond exclaimed, too stressed to come up with a more viable thing. At least it might have been viable, had there actually been a window where he was pointing "And I don't care if you look, it's your job your losing."

"As long as you shut up, fine, I'll look," the guard sighs, turning around. As soon as he did so, Desmond slipped inside ignoring the half-hearted yell of the guard to 'get back here'. He'd explain everything later.

"-a few minutes we'll introduce the three new Rampancy players." Coach Anderson was saying as the tardy reporter slipped into his seat, that Sam had luckily saved for him.

"Really? You're late again?" Sam elbowed him a little harder than necessary in side for emphasis while she finished setting up her camera.

"Not my fault. Jacob's game ran late and then traffic was really slow." He replied, sending an apologetic look to his blue eyed partner as he flipped out his notebook, pen at the ready to jot anything down once the conference started.

"Okay, let's get started then,'' Rampancy's head coach began, causing the entire press assembled to either sit up a little straighter or to adjust themselves and their equipment one last time. "First off, I'd like to thank you all for showing up. The first new player I'll be introducing is Miss. Sophie Rush."

Sophie stood up and waved nervously and her new Coach began telling some of her achievements and stats, though Desmond wasn't really paying attention to that, since he could find most of the facts later. Instead he took the time to observe Miss Rush. She was average height with curly brown hair and glasses. Desmond pegged her as a Runner, a suspicion which was soon confirmed by Anderson.

The next Rampancy member was Jason Ayante. He smiled and waved quite a bit, appearing considerably more confidently then his predecessor. The Defender was tall and wiry, with brown hair and brown eyes. He was also fresh out of the amateurs from a team called the 'Dreamcrushers', which Desmond dully noted was his brother Jacob's rival team, and had several achievements. They were impressive but Desmond wondered how well he'd hold up in the pros.

"Last but not least, is Jamie Evans," Anderson announced as the last person on stage, with long red hair and green eyes waved. Desmond couldn't tell what position she played but he could tell, judging by the size of her biceps, that she wouldn't be one for an energy sword. Maybe another Tank? Coach Anderson continued as soon as the assembled press quieted down, some already talking about Rampancy having a grand total of five female players, informing them of some of her stats and of course her position of Hybrid.

"Now, I guess it's time to take some questions from the floor" the head coach sighed, "Because I know you have the…ah…questions?"

"Dan Smithe, _Grifball United_," the first person called on from the sea of reporters trying to get their questions answered, stated. "Why did you get three new players instead of veterans?"

"Well, for multiple reasons really. With Jackson, Will and Alex, we have three veterans already, Alex of course having won a championship with Maverick a few seasons back already. Since the recent changes in the sport essentially mean that, if teams want to succeed this year, their entire playing styles and method to approaching each and every game is going to have to change. As a result, I thought it was best to buy some of the best young talent out there, rather than buying players who're already at the pinnacle of their abilities."

Anderson takes a breath.

"And, of course, I've seen a lot of potential in these three, and because they're young, it means that they'll be around for a long time yet. I know we were linked with Justin Barkley, of the Whirlwind, and Martin Nuemba of Overdrive, (to be honest, I don't know where you guys get this from) but, while they're great players, they're coming to the end of their careers. We wanted fresh blood, and we wanted them for the future. For Rampancy's future."

"Rupert Gringe, _What's What_," Desmond snorted at the name of the tabloid. Figures that _they'd_ be here, wasting everybody's time with sleazy, unnecessary or just plain rude questions. Stupid paparazzi.

"With a team consisting of both male and female players, are you concerned with the potential of teammates getting up to…ah…extra-curricular activities?" the reporter asked with a wry grin, and Desmond saw the coach's face immediately tighten, glaring at the moronic reporter in fron of him.

"I'm sorry to disappoint your readers, but my players maintain a strictly professional relationship between one another. They are professionals, not teenagers, and they're more than capable of keeping their pants on, if that's what you're asking. At the end of the day, we are a team, and the most important thing for us is the next match, not providing smut for rags to publish. Oh, I apologise, that wasn't entirely fair of me. For your 'esteemed publication' to publish. Next question, and preferably one that isn't a complete waste of my time!"

After several more boring questions and several note pages later, Desmond finally got called on. "Desmond Danhar, _AGLoA_. Do you think that these three new player will be ready before the season starts? After all the pre seasons almost over. And how do you three feel about joining up with Rampancy?" The first part was directed towards the coach and the second towards the players.

"I think they've got a lot of ground to cover, but we wouldn't have signed them if we didn't believe they were up to the challenge. They're not yet at the same level as their teammates, but they've impressed me with the levels of determination and resolve that they've displayed since their signing, and I'm confident that they'll catch up in no time. Anything you'd like to add, guys?"

Jason cut in before his fellow new teammates could say anything. "We're going to be our other teammates' equals. And soon. We're not going to be the ones slowing our team down. You can count on us pulling our own weight."

He glanced at Desmond. "And I feel rather excited more than anything else, actually. Moving up to the major leagues gives you a decent confidence boost."

"Well, I'm on the same page as Coach. I'm thrilled to have a chance to prove myself in the pros," Sophie added with a smile. "It's just such a joy that I was picked up by an awesome team like Rampancy."

The rest of the conference passed being fairly standard, with several odd questions including "What's your favourite coloyr?" (Apparently, Jason's favorite was teal and Sophie's was maroon but 'unfortunately', Desmond didn't catch Jamie's). After a couple other increasingly useless questions, the conference died down and Coach Anderson concluded with a short speech on Rampacy's hopes for the season, only being slightly insulting to the reporters that had 'wasted precious training time', before releasing them.

"So, get any good pictures, Sam?" Desmond asked his partner as he flipped his notebook shut and she folded up her tripod, trying to distract her from her anger at his tardiness. And the best way to do that, he had learned, was to get her talking about photography. While he stunk with a camera and her with a pen, they both had a certain flair and dedication for their respective arts.

"Ooooooh, don't try to get out of this, Dez. I'm still peeved with you being late _yet again_. I mean, do I need to set an alarm for you?" Sam ranted angrily flipped her blond hair over her shoulder, like she normally did when she was ticked at her partner. Which was a good chunk of the time. "And yes, I did. You know why? Because I got here _on time!_"

"Jeez, sorry. It wasn't my-" Desmond cut himself off from the glare she gave him and changed his train of thought. If looks could kill, then the reporter would be currently be planning his own funeral. "Sorry, sorry, it won't happen again."

"We both know it will, but just at least try, Dez," Sam sighed, following Demond out the exit, the latter of the two getting an angry glare from the security guard. Desmond gave him the 'be right there' sign and the guard threw his arms up in frustration. "And stop apologizing and just fix it."

"I will, I will. I'm really sorry. Whoops, I meant that, I'll try," he reassured her, trying not to apologize. "I promise."

"Good," the photographer replied, an edge still in her voice as she got into her car. "Anyway, I'll see back at headquarters, if you can manage not to be late to _that_. And watch out for any Grifball arenas, Dez, nobody wants a repeat of your driving like last time."

"Okay, I'll be there soon but I have to clear something up with security first." Sam gave him a puzzled look before driving off with Desmond yelling at her about the arena incident. She was never gonna let him live that one down, would she? "And that really wasn't my fault! The car malfunctioned!"

"Sure it did, Dez! Whatever helps you sleep at night!"

With that, he walked back to the security booth, looking over his notes but with one prominent thought really repeating in his mind.

_They couldn't arrest him for sneaking in...could they?_


End file.
